


Dream Team x Reader | One-shots

by ethotlliot (eggpainter)



Series: ethot’s dream and team x reader oneshots [2]
Category: Video Blogging RPF
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Smut
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-31
Updated: 2021-02-09
Packaged: 2021-03-18 11:47:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 21,183
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29117736
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eggpainter/pseuds/ethotlliot
Summary: Dream Team x Reader One-shots. Some are smut, some are fluff, some have plot. I will note in the title who it’s for, and what it has.
Relationships: Clay | Dream/Reader, Sapnap/Reader, georgenotfound/reader
Series: ethot’s dream and team x reader oneshots [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2181060
Comments: 31
Kudos: 738





	1. not funny (Dream, Fluff)

**Author's Note:**

> Dream thinks no nut November is the funniest joke.  
> You beg to differ.

I'm curled up on the couch reading a book when my boyfriend finally reappears, sitting down next to me. I mark my page, close my book, and swing both feet into his lap.

"Done recording already?" I ask.

Clay stays focused on his phone, but one of his hands curls around my ankle. 

"Yeah." He says, and that's it.

I blink, brow furrowing. O... kay. I guess we're not having a conversation. I open my book back up and settle in. Before I can even refocus, I feel my phone buzz where it's resting on my stomach. I look up, seeing a smug smile curling Clay's face. I steady myself and flip my phone, opening it up, seeing a notification from twitter. 

I immediately sigh. 

Earlier today I tweeted: 'been debating between these two dresses for a month. gonna let twitter decide for me.' with a picture of the two dresses and a poll with an option to pick one. He has just now responded. 

@ Dream : Neither of them, buy a sweater. Respect no nut November.

I glare at him over my phone. "I'm not liking or responding to that. It's not funny. No nut November is not a funny joke." I chastise, then push his stomach with my foot. "Childish." I chastise one more time, secretly fighting a smile, and open my book back up.

He immediately mocks me, further proving my point. "Nyeh nyeh nyeh. I hate my boyfriend and think he isn't funny." 

Without even looking up I respond. "True." 

Clay makes a noise of protest, leaning into my space. "Wh— C'mon. Take it back." He says.

I lift my thumb, chewing it, and shake my head no, still reading my book. I won't be complying with that request.

Suddenly, my book is plucked from my hands and tossed to the side. I barely get out a "Hey—" before Clay's replacing it with himself, crawling on top of me. 

He stares me down, manhandling me so he can settle between my legs. Though I let him, staying pliant and hooking my legs around his waist, I glare.

"What do you want now, nut boy?" I ask.

He pouts. "Take it back." 

I roll my eyes again, easily irritated, then let out an obviously forced laugh. "Oh my God! You're so funny! Ha ha ha! No nut November! It never gets old!"

Clay glares back, voice suddenly serious. "Stop being a bitch." 

I open my mouth, immediate noises of protest in my throat.

"Don't call me a bitch?" I say in disbelief, then start to squirm underneath of him. 

My struggle is futile, Clay keeping me pinned with his whole weight, staring down at me with a smug smile.

"Let me out—" I demand, slapping at his shoulders.

"I will if you say 'I love my boyfriend. He is very handsome and funny. No nut November is a good joke.'" He says.

I sneer. "In your dreams." I say back, then go limp, leaning over to snag my book back, immediately opening it up and settling in.

I can stay here all day.

Clay chuckles, obviously pleased with himself. "Alright. I can play the long game." He says, then adjusts to lay down on me, stuffing his head under my book and pressing his face into my neck. 

I lift my arms, letting him do it, then settle them back on his shoulders once he's done. Back to reading, though slightly distracted. He has an arm hooked around mine, angling his phone so he can see it. The screen is just barely in my peripheral. 

I hear typing and sneak a glance, seeing Clay's sending more no nut November tweets. I can't help that I sigh again, watching the pleased smile spread on his face as he keeps typing. 

We spend actual hours like this, pressed together on the couch, until I forget why we are in the first place. I start to relax into it, holding my book with one hand and using the other to card my fingers through his hair and play with it.

I start to get uncomfortable, stomach growling with hunger. I'm feeling thirsty too. I mark my page and close my book again, dropping it to the floor.

I slap both of Clay's shoulders. "Off." I say, voice bright.

"Nope." He says right back, locking his phone so he can focus on pressing into my neck.

"C'mon. I'm hungry." I say, not thinking much else of it. 

"I love my boyfriend. He is very handsome and funny. No nut November is a good joke." He says back.

Oh, right. 

I tense, slapping his shoulders again. "We're not still doing that. Get off."

Clay hums. "I can't get off. It's no nut Novem—" I lift a hand and gently slap his face before he can finish. He immediately starts laughing.

"Wow— you're beating me." He says, then pulls back to stare me down, grin splitting his face. "Say. It." 

I groan, lifting both hands to cup his face, more than over this. "C'mon Clay. I'm hungry. Let me out." I ask.

He shakes his head no. "Say it."

I huff a sigh. "I'm not fucking saying it." I grumble, then pull out the pout. "Will you let me go for a kiss?" I ask.

I hear Clay's breath hitch, something in his expression going softer. "Make it two kisses, and you have yourself a deal." He says, quiet.

I lift for that, pulling his face toward mine, and slot our mouths together. It's soft, warm, sweet. He tastes like apples, though I have no fucking clue why. I pull back until we're just sharing breath.

"I love my boyfriend." I mumble, then press another kiss, feeling as Clay's hand lifts to cup my face. "He's very handsome." I continue, then press another kiss. "And funny." I lean in, pressing a hard kiss, swiping my tongue into his mouth, nipping his lip before I pull back a final time.

"But no nut November is not a funny joke." I say, finishing with a smirk. 

Clay grumbles, but his face is happy and relaxed. We stare at each other for a moment, before he finally lifts off of me. "Fine. Be free." 

I giggle, immediately escaping, and pad off to the kitchen for a snack. I settle for almonds. I'm not the biggest fan of them, but I'll eat them for the joke. I then circle back to the living room. 

Clay's still laying down, on his back now, scrolling his phone. 

"I failed no nut November." I say, simply, smiling as I pop an almond into my mouth. 

Clay sits up, brow furrowed, peaking over the couch to see what I'm on about. I watch the realization hit as his eyes catch on the snack I'm eating.

"Oh? It's not funny?" He starts, quickly swinging up to standing. 

I giggle, nodding.

"Yeah? It's not funny?" He asks again, quickly approaching me. 

I yelp and turn on my heel, dropping my almonds on the kitchen counter and bolting. He chases me through his house, both of us laughing, until I'm inevitably caught and lifted. He drags me off to his room.

I guess we've both failed no nut November, now.


	2. a really good friend (Dream, smut)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dream gets jealous for no reason.  
> Okay, scratch that.  
> There's a reason, but it's his fault.

"Oh my God? Clay? It's been a minute!" I hear from somewhere behind me, and tense my hand where I have it curled around my boyfriend's forearm.

We turn simultaneously, and I make eye contact with probably one of the tinniest blonde girls I've ever seen. 

"No way— hey Kitty!" Clay says as he steps away from me and wraps her in a hug. She wraps him right back.

Now, I don't want to be overbearing. But I'd like this hug to be quicker. I swallow, feeling somewhat guilty and uncomfortable that I feel like that.

Clay finally steps back toward me, and I immediately catch his arm and hold it again, like a claim. This gets the girl, 'Kitty's', attention and her eyes flick quickly between the two of us. 

"Who's this?" She asks, gesturing toward me, face bright.

He looks at me, and I puff up a bit, proud. I'm his girlfriend, officially, as of about a week ago. We had a long talk after one too many and mutually confessed. It was cute, I promise.

"—is a really good friend of mine." 

Huh?

I hear the words come out of Clay's mouth and turn to look at him. He's smiling, still looking right at 'Kitty', not noticing the way I'm looking at him in absolute confusion.

"Oh! Well it's so nice to meet you!" Chirps from the girl, and I look back just in time to watch as I get wrapped in a hug by her next.

I don't have to heart to hug back very well. What did Clay just say? I look at him again in utter disbelief as I get squeezed by this girl. He grins, then winks at me like we're having some sort of inside joke. If that's the case, I'd sure love to be inside of it.

Kitty steps off of me, then immediately catches Clay's sleeve, tugging it. 

"C'mon— Maddie's here too!" She chirps, then looks at me. "Mind if I steal him for just a minute?" She coos.

I blink at her, feeling like that's all I can do. "I mean it's— that's his choice." I say, then awkwardly laugh.

Clay doesn't say anything, but Kitty speaks again. "Okay! Good! C'mon!" She chirps, then drags my man off. 

A really good friend of mine?

A really good friend of mine?

A really good friend of mine?

A really good friend of mine? 

I feel like I'm losing my mind as the phrase repeats over and over in my head with different emphasis. What? I didn't even have a chance to ask who she was.

I try to shake the feeling, making my way out of the living room into the kitchen, weaving through people, now alone. Clay's the one that invited me to this stupid houseparty in the first place. I huff a sigh, looking at the drinks, and suddenly realize I'm almost too upset to grab one.

"Hey, you need any help?" I startle as a voice comes from behind me.

As I crane my neck to look, the source circles around to my side. It's a guy, tall, dark hair, well kept, dressed in my favorite style. I turn back, realizing I'm just staring at the drinks. 

"Ah. Sorry. I zoned out." I say, as explanation.

The guy gets closer, hovering close enough behind my back I can feel the heat radiate off of him.

"Happens to the best of us." He says, with a small laugh. "If you want, I could just pick you a drink, then you could come sit with me and my buddies as payment for the favor." He finishes, obviously flirting.

I look at him again. He's... exactly my type. Lanky but trim, somewhat geeky, good smile. And once again... tall, dark hair, and he's dressed in my favorite style: sweatshirt with a collared shirt under, dress pants, sharp dress shoes, necklace overtop, plenty of rings, and glasses.

But, I've got a boyfriend. I look over to Clay.

He's still talking to 'Kitty', and now another girl that looks almost identical to her. Maddie, I presume. Both have hands landed on his arms, pressing themselves flush to him as he beams back.

"Sounds like a win-win." I say, agreeing, upset now that I've seen that, then introduce myself.

The guy's arm immediately snakes around my waist, hand landing on my hip, holding firm, tugging me to his side. I hate that the only thing I can think is how much better Clay's hand feels on me. 

"Everyone calls me Anderson. It's technically my last name, but, y'know." The guy says, then leans forward, hooking his fingers around the necks of two Dos Equis.

Ah, beer, gross. Whatever, I'll still drink it. 

Anderson keeps the hand on my waist firm, then starts to guide me back toward the living room. I keep my eyes forward and averted, knowing we're walking right past Clay. He guides me upstairs, to a part of the house I didn't know existed.

It's a lounge type of room, couches, armchairs, a mixed group of people that are a lot more laid back than the ones talking and dancing in the living room. Anderson briefly pauses to dap up some other guy, before guiding me even further.

I'm surprised when he drops down into an armchair between two full couches. I thought he wanted me to sit with— oh. I realize the situation as I get tugged into his lap. I let it happen, settling in, swinging my legs up over the arm.

Oh no. Sure hope my boyfriend doesn't walk in on this. That would be... a shame. 

"Cheers to whoever brought me this birthday present." Anderson says, looking right at me and laughing, then cracking our beers. 

A few people around us laugh too, lifting their own drinks as he pushes the beer at me. I delicately wrap my fingers around the neck of a bottle, cradling it as I take a sip. 

"It's your birthday?" I ask, curious, wondering why the hell he'd be here. 

He makes a weird face, brow furrowing. "Yeah...? That's what the whole party is for...?" He says.

Oh. Shit. This is his houseparty in his house.

I start laughing nervously. "Sorry— sorry!" I squeak. "I didn't know." 

Anderson squeezes my waist, smiling. "It's no problem. I'm just glad you're here." He says, then drags his eyes down my figure. I feel... guilt.

I open my mouth to speak again, explain that I need to leave, that this was a mistake, but before I can I'm interrupted. 

"Hey." I hear Clay, sounding somewhat tense and breathless. I look up, seeing he's standing absurdly close with his arms crossed, staring at me like he's going to kill me. That's... too bad for him. I settle back in.

"Hey man!" Anderson says back, leaning forward and dapping Clay up. He accepts, but his eyes never leave me for a second.

The second he's done, Clay's jaw ticks. "What's going on here?" He asks.

Anderson 'huh's, then finally seems to notice the daggers being stared. "Oh, I'm sorry, do you know each other?" He asks, wrapping my waist tighter. I watch Clay's eyes drop to follow the movement and placement of his hand on me, then watch as he starts to white knuckle his own biceps where his arms are crossed.

I nod, melting into a smile. "Yeah. Clay's a really good friend of mine." I say, mimicking the words he used earlier. "He's the one that invited me." 

"Ohhh." Anderson starts, then laughs. "Well thanks for that, man!" He says, as his hand slides lower, until it's resting on my thigh, playing with the edge of my skirt. 

"Feel free to invite over girls as pretty as this any time." He continues with a laugh.

I watch Clay's face set even harder. I tilt my head, relaxed, then push my tongue out to drink as suggestively as possible. I circle the lip of the beer, mouthing at it, looking right at my boyfriend.

Anderson must not follow still, because he takes a shuddered exhale, hand pushing forward to cup my face and press his thumb to the corner of my lips. I briefly wonder how far this is going to go— then Clay has hands on me. 

"We're leaving." He says, simple, then pulls me out of Anderson's lap. 

"Hey—" I complain, trying to tug back, but the hands Clay has on me go tight. 

He pauses to look me dead in the eyes. "We are leaving." He says again, low, and I realize I don't exactly have an option here. I swallow nervously, ducking my head. I drop my beer to a coffee table, turning to look at a very confused Anderson. 

"Thanks for having us." I say, quick and diplomatic, then Clay's dragging me off, arm wrapped around my waist, grip nearly bruising. 

It's... tense. We're both dead silent, making our way out. 

"Babe— I—" I try to start, but Clay squeezes.

"Don't." He says back. My breath hitches. Oh I fucked up. Oh I fucked up.

As we reach the door, Kitty reappears. I want to scream, stomach going tight as she plasters herself right back onto his side. 

"You're leaving already?" She asks, then pouts. "You caaaaann't." She says, then tugs him back toward the party. 

Great. This is going to make me feel so much better, I'm sure that—

Clay barely even glances at her, ripping his arm back. "Get the fuck off me." He says, voice low, then swings the door open, dragging me out.

Oh I fucked up. 

The silence as Clay guides me back his car is nearly oppressive, the tension thick enough to cut with a knife. It makes me curl into a smile. He's pissed.

As we reach his car I try to detach from his side and get in, but he catches me at the waist, flipping me so we're face to face. I get backed up and manhandled, pressed to the door of the car, Clay's leg planting between mine. 

"What's wr—" Is all I get out, interrupted with a gasp as Clay grabs my jaw, forcibly tilting my head back and going in on my neck. 

A shuddered moan drops from my mouth as he immediately latches his mouth on hard, sucking a massive bruise. I dart my hands up to hold his shoulders, steadying myself, rocking my hips down on his thigh.

"C-Clay come on—" I stutter out around my moans, digging in with my fingers.

He makes a rumbled noise, pulling back only to switch to a patch of unbruised skin and latch on there, biting down and bruising that, too. I whimper, and he finally pulls off with a wet pop. The hand he had on my jaw cups my face, squeezing, holding me in place as he hovers, staring me down.

"Why the fuck are you playing these games with me?" He asks, low, and I swallow, steadying myself. "You know what this is."

I don't forget what started this. I tilt my head back, defiant. 

"What games? What this? My friendship with my really good friend, Clay?" I say, trying to make my point, poking at his chest.

He doesn't falter, staring me down, shaking his head. "Yeah? I'm your fucking friend?" He asks.

I roll my eyes, hurt. "Why don't you get off of me and go talk to Kitty some more." I say.

Clay lets out a low noise. "That's what this is? That's what this fucking is? You're jealous? That's really what this is?" 

I huff. I can't believe he's still missing the point. But, I'm pissed. "Yeah. Sure. Exactly, bud."

The hand around my neck drops, and Clay's suddenly off of me. He rips open the passenger door, staring off into the distance, face set. I huff again, but load myself into the car. He closes my door, then rounds the car, hopping into the driver's seat and slamming his own door shut.

I lean away from him, staring out the window. The entire drive is silent. No music, no talking. Nothing but both of us taking tense breaths, refusing to talk about what happened. It takes me too long to realize we're driving to his house. 

"Take me home." I say, simple. 

Clay just hums. "No. I'm going to fuck you until you remember how to act." He says, like it's that simple. 

I take a stuttered breath, averting my eyes to stare at my lap. I only have a second of relief there before his hand lands on my thigh and squeezes. I know I should just drop the attitude, have the conversation that needs to happen... but...

"Oh? Are we friends with benefits?" I question, then try to shove his hand off.

"What the fuck is this friends thing about—" He continues, sounding only more frustrated.

I huff, watching as he pulls into his driveway and jerks into park. "You know you're mine so why—"

"Okay? Does 'Kitty' know I'm yours?" I ask, actually making air quotes around the name. 

I watch his expression falter for just a moment as he processes, suddenly figuring out the problem. 

"Yeah. There you go big man. Think long and hard on that one." I say, then turn to open my car door and hop out.

Clay swings out, wrapping an arm around my waist and tugging me right back into the car, across the center console, and into his lap. 

"I'm sorry. I didn't tell her about us because I didn't know what to say—" He starts.

"Maybe that I'm your girlfriend? What?" I question.

"You— are you?" He asks, voice suddenly vulnerable.

My mouth drops in disbelief. "Am I tripping right now? Am I the only one that experienced last weekend when we talked about being in love with each other and exclusive and dating?" I question. 

Clay's mouth opens and closes, floundering for a moment. "I— I didn't know that meant we were like, official or anything I—"

I've heard enough. I try slap his arms off, aggressively this time, but he just keeps holding tight. 

"Let me fucking go. I'm walking home." I whine out, struggling. "You're fucking stupid. There's something deficient in your brain—"

I'm interrupted by Clay's hand covering my mouth and holding my face in my place. 

"I'm going to kiss you. I'm going to take you inside. Then, I'm going to fuck this attitude out of you so we can talk about this." His voice is low, commanding, though, I know it's a question. 

I swallow my nerves, staring back at him. He lifts his brows, waiting, and I nod. The second I nod, his hands drop, man-handling me until I'm straddling his lap. Once he's got me where he wants he surges forward, meeting me for a kiss rough enough our teeth click together. 

It's messy, harsh, all of our anger being expressed in the movement of it. His hands are demanding against my thighs as we kiss, groping, touching, connecting with every inch of skin he can reach.

"Thought I was—" He mumbles against my mouth, interrupting himself to kiss me. "—gonna lose my fucking mind seeing someone else's hands on you like that." He grumbles, finishing.

I roll my eyes, pulling back. "How do you think I felt?" I question.

Clay just shakes his head, lifting a hand to hook into my hair and hold my head in place so he can meet me for another rough kiss. He pushes into my mouth with his tongue, so demandingly impatient to claim as much space as he can. 

He keeps his hands on me, tight, even as he swings open his car door and goes to stand. He drags me out with him, one arm firm around my waist. I latch, holding tight, pressing our bodies flush. We make it exactly inside his front door before we break. 

Clay presses against me, pinning me to the door and rolling himself between my legs. His mouth makes it way back onto mine. It's less harsh this time, slower, filled with want, almost desperate. 

He pulls back, just far enough to break the kiss yet close enough our lips brush. "Don't you ever do that to me again." He mumbles, then presses right back in, forcing his tongue into my mouth.

I manage a whine and a nod before both our hands go frantic, desperate to feel each other. My body arches, hands scrambling to unbuckle Clay's belt while his hand does the same, shoving up my skirt, palming me over my underwear.

We keep breaking the kiss to breathe, look, readjust, both fighting to keep connected and shed what we need to shed to do this. 

My thighs clench as I get my hand wrapped around his cock inside of his boxers, stroking up the quickly hardening length. He exhales into my mouth, lips twitching into a smile from the contact. 

"Yeah? You gonna take my cock right here?" He asks.

I nod. I will. 

I gasp as Clay's fingers become demanding between my legs, shoving my underwear to the side and sliding into my slick. My entire body pushes into the contact, betraying my confidence in hiding how desperate I get for him. 

He notices it, smiling against my mouth as he nips my lip, right before pushing two fingers inside of me. My breath hitches, mouth briefly going lax against his. He takes the chance to breathe, pulling back just until we're sharing breath, still moving his hand, fingers curling to play with everything sensitive inside of me. I remember my own hand, and do the same, feeling as his cock throbs in my palm. 

Usually our sex is calm, relaxed. We'll lay in bed, exploratory, playing with each other for the fun of the touch and connection. This... this is frantic. This is a claim, a reminder. I think I like it. 

Clay's hand pulls back, leaving me clenching on air. I whine, just before I feel it wrap around my own hand, guiding me to take his cock out. I catch on quick, helping him. 

Then, his phone rings from his pocket, breaking the tension. He pulls out of the kiss with a small frustrated noise, using his free hand to hang up the call. He's barely pressed our lips back together before the ring cries out a second time, demanding attention. He ends the call, again. He gets the tip of his tongue into my mouth before it rings a third time.

This time, he fully pulls back. I have a brief moment where I see his expression, all clenched teeth frustration as he checks the name. I furrow my brow in surprise as he answers, popping the phone on speaker, then hands it to me. 

"Hey, man." Clay says, briefly staring me down as I start to fluster in on myself, confused.

"Hey! You dipped so early!" I hear... I have to double check. I look at the screen, then immediately glare at Clay, who has now melted into a smile. It's Anderson. George Anderson.

"Sorry about that." Clay says back, lifting a finger to his lips, signaling me to be quiet, before his hand slips back between us, holding the base of his cock as he slides the head of it through my pussy. 

My breath hitches, and I dig my nails into his neck, biting down on my lip, hard. 

"Something— ah— came up." He speaks again, lining himself up, pushing in almost teasingly slow.

"Listen... if there was something between you and that chick I didn't know man, she didn't say anything." Anderson says.

I watch Clay melt into another smile, staring me down, dragging his tongue along his lower lip. "It's," He starts, then snaps his hips, burying the full length of his cock inside of me and slowly grinding into me, speaking simultaneously. "Alright." He finishes, voice hopefully loud enough to cover the involuntary whine I slip as he pushes into me. 

"Who was she? You brought her right? You think I could get her number?" Anderson continues, and I briefly send a prayer the call drops.

Clay just shakes his head, rolling his hips against me to play with my limits using the length of his cock. Suddenly his hand is up, covering my face. "Sorry man." He pulls back, and my body tenses, bracing. "That's my girlfriend." He says, then snaps his hips against me, hard enough there's an audible slap.

I feel my face warm, embarrassment welling in my throat with the heat of arousal. There's no way this man doesn't know what's happening. There's a small intoxicating buzz in the way Clay's treating me, though, as he balances himself and drags his cock in and out of me at a steady pace. It's hard to focus on the sensation with everything else, but it feels good, the adrenaline of the situation feeding me. 

"Bro, what?" Anderson speaks again, and I fight to pull from my thoughts, eyes fluttering and losing focus. "Dude that's, that's kinda fucked up. She didn't say anything. Thought it was fair game, man. I'm sorry." 

Clay looks down at me, almost predatory, then fucks himself deep, rocking into where our bodies meet. 

"Yeah, sorry." Clay says, then adjusts his hand to push his fingers into my mouth. It's enough that my pussy pulses around his cock, clenching down on him. "We were in a fight. She wanted to piss me off."

I whimper, wrapping my lips around his fingers, looking up at his face as I lathe with my tongue. 

"That's messed up, man." Comes from the phone. "She sounds like a bitch, you need to talk?"

"Nah, I'm alright." Clay responds, quick, then starts to roll his hips against me, fucking me at a rapid pace. 

I nearly want to scream, pleasure and heat blooming in my stomach as his cock fucks in and out me. It feels so good and I can't— I have to stay quiet. The words and noises sit in my throat like a demand, threatening to come out. 

"I'm taking care of it." Clay says again, low, then finally uncovers my mouth, grabbing the phone and hanging up the call.

I can't be assed to imagine how weird that exchange was for the other guy, mouth dropping open to release an uninhibited moan. Suddenly, the pace is punishing, Clay tilting forward to bury his head in my neck and latch onto my throat with his mouth.

Every thrust gets a noise out of me, both of my hands lifted to his shoulders to dig in and hold on for dear life. I tighten my legs around his hips, keeping us pressed flush as he fucks himself up into me. I know this isn't going to be a long fuck, that will probably come later, so I let myself melt, leaning into the physical pleasure.

Clay pulls back just to stare me down. "Now you want to be a good girl." He says, hips snapping particularly rough, causing my breath to catch in my throat.

I whine, nodding, loose and careful, fucked out of my mind as I feel his cock stretch me.

"Yeah? Well you might feel real fuckin' good." He mumbles. "But that doesn't make you a good girl." 

I mewl, hands curling against him tight, eyes fluttering. "I'm sorry, daddy." I manage, and watch the predatory grin melt Clay's face. "I'll be good now."

"You're right." Clay starts, supporting me with one are around the waist, moving the other until he can cup my cheek. "You will be a good girl." He says, then drops that hand until it lands on my throat. 

He curls around it, squeezing tight, tight enough I go light headed.

"Cum for me." Clay demands, hand tight around my throat, as I struggle to catch my breath. "Cum on my fucking cock like daddy's good girl." 

I whine, nod as well as I can, then let my body go loose. I focus on the sensation of him fucking in and out of my pussy, until the burn builds low in my abdomen. 

I whimper like a warning, just as my eyes roll back in my head. Clay's hand goes even tighter, maintaining my euphoria as my entire body arches, cresting into my orgasm. I exhale, sharp, throbbing around Clay's cock.

He gets verbal, hips stuttering with their thrusts, cock pulsing where it's buried inside of me.

"Just— keep it tight for me baby—" He mumbles, soft in contrast to the way he's desperately fucking himself into me. 

I get out one, "Please cum in me, daddy." Before Clay moans, guttural, hips stuttering to a stop. 

He buries himself as deep as he can, fucking as much cum as deep into me as he can get. Still in our post-orgasm haze, we stumble toward the couch, then flop down with him still inside of me, throbbing and oversensitive, the same way I am.

"You're my good girl. My perfect girl." Clay finally praises as we sit, melted together, his hand lifting to pet my hair.

We only have a moment of peace, before the guilt starts to eat at me. 

"I'm really sorry— like really sorry—" I start, but Clay interrupts. 

"Stop." Is all he says back, soft and low, but it's enough that I falter. "Just listen to me." He says again.

"It's my fault. I didn't know we were official. Otherwise I would have told her straight up. I would love to be official, as well. I just... I wasn't trying to be too overbearing. You know? I really care about you. I didn't want to push you to a place you weren't ready for." 

It's... a good explanation. I still pout, overwhelmed. 

"You're such a dumbfuck. How did you not know that's what— I hate you." I say, and keep pouting. 

"I know. I'm sorry. I can see why you were pissed. I'll text her right now." He says.

I watch as he pulls his phone out, and does exactly that. I keep pouting, but I also melt, letting go of the anger. 

"Thanks." I mumble, quiet, and he squeezes me tight.

We just hold each other for a moment, all softness and apologies, before he squeezes again. 

"So, I see why you were pissed but..." He starts, and I freeze up, ducking my head.

The more I think about it, the more I see how fucked up how I acted was. Especially now that I have context for his behavior.

"I'm sorry." I squeak. 

"I know, baby." He says back, calm, them rocks his hips against me, still inside. "You can keep apologizing from under me."


	3. your man (Sapnap, fluff)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sapnap plays you some music.  
> It's embarrassing, but you like it anyways.
> 
> ***
> 
> mentioned songs: 
> 
> God's Country - Blake Shelton  
> Your Man - Josh Turner  
> Drumtown Mambo - Whethan, Jasiah

"Chill if I play music?" Nathan—or shit, Nick, he told me to call him, I guess, asks. 

"Yeah." I say, quick, smiling awkwardly, buckling my seatbelt. "It's your car, man." 

I shift awkwardly in my seat. It's literally 3 am, and I'm tired out of my mind. There's a massive partner project due in Rhetoric due at 9am. Nick is my partner. We've known about the project all semester. We started it five hours ago. We aren't even half done. Suffice to say, this is going to be an all-nighter.

I'm already burnt out, but Nick still seems to have energy. He noticed how tired I am and proposed we go to Mcdonald's. I'm tired, he's hungry. Mcdonald's has coffee and food, so win-win. 

"You're from fuckin'— Nebraska right?" He asks, laughing.

I lift my brows, very surprised he remembered that, from introductions. "Yeah...? Why?" I question.

He immediately hesitates. "I-I'm not a creep. I swear. It's just such a weird state I remembered it." He says, covering his ass.

I smirk at how flustered he is, staying silent. 

"I only asked because—" He continues, then starts playing music. A cursory glance at the radio display shows he's playing 'God's Country - Blake Shelton'. "Because y'know— midwest. God's country."

I immediately snort a laugh. "Yeah?" I start, shaking my head. "Is this where I find out you're a country boy?" I tease.

"Nah, nah— that's not it. Just wanted you to be comfortable." He says.

I smile for that, some of the awkwardness I was feeling fading. I don't like country music, particularly, but the gesture is sweet. Thankfully, with music playing, some of the awkward tension that came with silence fades. There's less pressure to speak. 

I take the second to think, considering the situation. I didn't know much about Natha— fuck. Nick. I didn't know much about Nick before today. He's always super quiet in class, and never texted me about the project until I texted him.

But now... I know a little, and it raises more questions than it answers.

Question one: How does a college student afford this car? 

Question two: How does a college student afford that house?

I furrow my brow, watching his face as he hums along to his... interesting song choice. I have to shrug it off. Must be a case of rich boy with daddy's money. I wouldn't have pegged him for it, since he doesn't have an insufferable personality.

We stay quiet, music filling the silence for us until we pull up in the drive through. Nick immediately turns the music down, and I find myself smiling. So he's polite, too. 

"What can I get y'all tonight?" Comes out, tinny over the speaker, and Nick leans in, ordering his food. I'm surprised when he finishes, instead of starting a separate ticket, he continues. "Just a second ma'am." He turns toward me. "What d'you want?" He asks.

I startle, caught off guard, thinking I had a moment longer. 

"Oh shit um—" I quickly lean in toward his window so the speaker box will pick up my voice. "Hi! Can I have just— a large sugar free vanilla iced coffee." I pause for a moment.

"Anything else, hon?" 

"And then an apple pie." 

I hear Nick laugh before the voice continues. "Is that everything?" The worker asks. 

I turn toward Nick to double check, and immediately freeze up. I didn't notice the position I'd gotten myself into. I'm hovering above him, our faces only inches away. We're close enough I can feel his breath.

I watch him go red, as completely frozen as I am, staring right back at me. There's a moment where my heart thumps, staring at his face, thoughts kicking into overdrive.

Lowkey? He's kind of cute. Plus, he's been nothing but nice to me— and—

"Is that everything, hon?" The worker repeats, and the moment breaks. 

I feel like I can breathe again, retracting back into my seat. 

"Y-yes ma'am. That's all." Nick stutters out. 

"Alright! Pull forward." Chirps the worker, and we lurch forward in the line. 

With the music low, the awkward tension is back. Thankfully, he breaks it.

"Sugar free coffee then an apple pie? Seems contradictory." He says, then laughs at me again. 

I hum. "I like the gross over-sweet of artificial sweetener in McDonald's coffee. Makes the bitter bearable." I say, not sure why I'm feeling the need to defend myself. 

"Just an observation." He follows up, and we're back into stiff silence.

I rub the back of my neck, blowing a nervous breath. "What's your Venmo? I should drop you a couple for the food and gas." I say, pulling out my phone. 

"No worries." He says. 

I quirk a brow for that. "Don't chivalry me. I'm gonna feel like an asshole. Just let me pay." 

Nick quirks a brow right back. "Chivalry? I don't know how people act in Nebraska but 'round here we just call that being nice." 

I raise my hands in defeat. "Okay Mr. Rich boy. Go ahead, then." 

Nick rolls his shoulders, shaking his head. "I'm not rich." 

I pause for a moment before deciding to tease further. "Okay. Let's drive back to your gated community in your brand new car with the food you bought me. A humble night." 

He sighs. "Houses are cheap in Texas it's— maybe you'd know if you were from here." 

I raise my brows, laughing. "Yeah? You think real estate is prime in Nebraska? You think houses are more expensive up there?" 

He pauses for a moment, considering, before he speaks again. "Fine. You got me there. You don't need to blow your lid."

I feel guilty. "Sorry." I mumble. "Didn't mean to tilt on you like that." 

Nick eyes me for a moment. "Tilt? So are you into league?" He asks.

I go tight lipped. I fucked up. "Yeah, I mean. Yeah, a little bit." I say. I'm not going to let slip to the cute Texas boy that I'm a high Elo league addict. That would be... embarrassing. 

"I mean... playing with friends and stuff is fun!" I continue, rambling nervously. 

Nick immediately shifts, flipping his phone in his hand and passing it to me unlocked. 

"Could I have your snap? It could be cool to play together sometime." He asks, sounding hesitant. 

I smile again, nerves melting, and take the phone, doing just that. 

"Sure thing, cowboy." I say.

"Stop." He says back.

"Maybe. If you give me a little Texas drawl."

"Stop." He says again, grinning, voice deep with a fabricated drawl. 

It makes my stomach flutter in a way I don't expect. 

"Can you say darlin' next?" I ask, unashamed, passing his phone back. 

Nick's brows climb, a flush visibly blooming on his cheeks. 

"Of course, darlin'." He drawls in a practiced accent. "In fact. I'll do ya one better." 

I watch as he opens his phone again, putting on a new song, and cranking the radio up. I peek, and see 'Your Man - Josh Turner.'

Nick bobs his head to the music, then snaps his head to look at me as the lyrics start, singing them.

"Baby lock them doors and turn the lights down low, put some music on that's soft and slow." 

I laugh, clapping a hand over my mouth in shock. He immediately splits into a smile, singing only more confidently. 

"Baby we ain't got no place to go, I hope you under-stand!" He continues.

I'm melting in my seat. I hoot, and start fanning myself, only encouraging his performance as we sit in the drive through. It goes longer than I expect.

"I can't believe how much it turns me on, just to be your man—" Nick continues singing until there's a honk, and I realize we needed to pull forward quite some time ago.

"AH—" I yelp, while Nick starts chuckling, turning the music down. 

We pull up to the window, both laughing. As he turns away from me, I look at him. Like really look at him, feeling something seed itself at the pit of my stomach. He's... kind of a goofball, in the best way. 

I could speedrun a crush on him, easy.

Nick pulls back into the car with our food and a 'thank you ma'am' that makes my stomach flip. He passes me my coffee, and I start to chug it like it's liquid gold.

Which, really, right now? It is. 

"Thank you." I say the second we hit a stoplight, as genuine as I can manage, looking over at Nick.

"It's no problem." He says right back, taking a sip. 

I notice a moth flew into the car, landing in his hair. I lean in, hand first and brush it out of his hair, messing it up in the process. I hum, going back in, fixing the out of place strands, not really thinking. I pull back, proud of my work, and suddenly realize how thick the tension is.

Nick's staring at me, head tilted back, mouth slightly parted, drink forgotten. My breath hitches as his eyes flick, considering me for a moment. I wonder if he's having the same experience I'm having.

There's... something here. Undeniably, there's an attraction. 

He shakes it off before I can, and goes to drive, tapping the gas a bit hard. Unprepared for that, I jerk with the car. Some of my coffee splashes to my lap and the floor.

I scramble for napkins.

"Shit— I'm— shit. I'm so sorry— I— shit." I stutter out, dabbing at the spill. 

"No worries, happens." He says quick, and I puff out a stressed breath.

"Sorry— I'm. Shit. Sorry." I mumble again, quick, holding a wad of wet napkins.

Nick laughs. "It's, really. It's all good." He says, and I finally believe it, nodding. 

I wrap the wet napkins in a dry one, and put it back in the food back, jittering nervously. The silence is starting to get to me again. 

"I— can I get the aux?" I ask. 

He eyes me.

"Don't look at me like that. You made me listen to country music. Surrender it." I demand. 

He shrugs, passing it over. I snag it quick, popping it into my phone. I decide to switch the mood. I tap 'Drumtown Mambo - Whethan, Jasiah'. The beat starts quick, energetic, totally different.

Nick oohs, nodding. "I see you." He says.

I smile. "Yeah?" 

"Yeah." He says back. "This type of music is banger too." 

I ooh right back. "A multi-taste boy? Unpredictable." 

"Oh for sure. There's a lot about me that you'll never predict." Nick says with an eyebrow raise, quickly glancing at me as he sips his drink. 

I tilt my head, curious. "Like.. what?" I question. 

His smile turns smug. "Get to know me. You'll find out." He says.

I whistle for that, brows lifting. "That was smooth. I see you." 

Nick starts cheesing, before he takes another sip. 

"Okay then..." I continue, taking the bait to 'get to know him'. "Is league your favorite game?" I ask.

He immediately shakes his head. "No, hell no."

"What is?"

There's a moment of hesitation before Nick speaks. "I'm partial to Minecraft, I guess." He sounds almost... sheepish.

"No that's chill." I encourage, not wanting him to close off. "I had a Minecraft phase like a year ago. Shit can be super fun, especially with friends." 

"Yeah, yeah. I have a server with my friends. Super fun." He says, sounding oddly coy. 

I'm about to question him on that when he jumps in first. "What about you? League your favorite?"

The truth? Yes, absolutely. What I tell him? "Uh... the Sims." I say, as quick as I can.

"Hm. Yeah. I could see that for you." He eyes me as he says it.

I'm not sure if I need to be offended. "Don't tell me you're a gatekeeper—" I start.

He immediately shakes his head, looking flustered and concerned again. "No, no, no, that's not what— I was trying to— cute girls plays Sims. That's all I was— that's all I was saying." He tapers off.

I'm sure I look as surprised as he does.

"Yeah?" I question.

"Yeah." He mumbles back.

I decide to be bold. "You're cute too." I say.

I watch Nick's head dip, cheeks going a deep undeniable red. 

I want to get to know him, for sure. He seems sweet.


	4. dusty (George, fluff)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> George is 24 now.  
> Hopefully he doesn't fall and break his hip.

"You have a gray hair." I say.

I'm laying in bed with George. He has his head on my stomach, resting like that as I card my fingers through his hair. 

"No I do not." He replies.

I purse my lips, threading it away from his other hairs and holding it.

"Yes you do. I'm literally looking right at it." I say back.

"Prove it then." He says.

I smile, then pluck the hair off his head. I laugh as he flinches, then dangle the hair in front of his face. 

"See." 

"No way." George says, quick, lifting a hand to pat his head. "What the fuck? Is there more?" 

"I mean..." I start, fluffing his hair with my fingers. "Probably." 

"Can you pluck all of them?" He asks, stealing the hair I already plucked and eyeing it like it's unbelievable. 

I laugh again. "What? Like I'm a monkey combing your fur for bugs? You want me to go through every strand?" I ask, then push his hair back, resting my hand on his forehead.

"Ew." He says immediately. "No. Like my girlfriend searching my head for grey hairs. Chop chop." 

I huff. "If I pluck every grey hair you get, you'll eventually go bald." 

I feel him stiffen. "Are there that many?" He asks, voice frantic, running both hands through his hair. 

I laugh, catching his wrists, trying to get him to settle back down. "No— no. That was— that was a joke." 

George exhales, sharp. "Well say slash j before you give me a heart attack." 

"Yeah?" I start, continuing to tease. Though, he walked right into this one. "Well, you are getting to that tender old age where men start dropping like flies—" I coo out.

"I'M TWENTY-FOUR!" He yells back immediately.

I giggle, threading my hands back into his hair and ruffling it. "Twenty-four? That's dusty. You're so old and dusty—" 

"You're six months younger than me! We were the same age yesterday!" He protests. 

"Yeah?" I continue. "Well today we aren't. You're my handsome silver fox." 

George grumbles, fully sitting up, removing himself from me. I immediately pout, making grabby hands for him. 

"Noooo, come back." I coo out, trying to catch him, but he keeps shrugging me off. 

"C'mon George it was a joke— c'mere." I say, pouting now.

George continues to avoid me. "No, I don't want to. I might get residue on you. Since I'm so dusty." He says, heavy emphasis on the dusty. 

I sit up now too, jumping on him, plastering myself to his back, and hooking my head over his shoulder. 

"You're not." I start, voice pouty, and kiss his cheek. "You're such a strapping young lad. So young and fit." I say, genuine, though my voice is still teasing.

"Stop." George demands, despite the way he splits into a smile large enough his eyes disappear into the fat of his cheeks. 

I keep kissing his face regardless, peppering my lips across his cheek, to his jaw, down his neck and around it to the other side of his face, peppering kisses there, too. He makes a pleased noise and I giggle, never pausing my assault. 

"So young—" I mumble, kissing softer, wrapping my arms around his chest from behind. "You're baby." I coo, and George finally breaks for that.

He shrugs me off, turning, and tackling me to the mattress. I keep giggling as he crawls on top of me, though his expression is similar, bright and happy. 

"I'll show you dusty." He grumbles out, landing his hands on my waist and tickling.

I immediately scream, kicking out at him. 

"GEORGE— STOP—" I yell through the laughter, thrashing against the mattress as his hands ghost along my skin, feather light. 

I lift my legs, kneeing him with both, smacking him wildly through the noise we're making, essentially rough housing in the sheets. He yells back at me, as I scream, desperately trying to bat him off. 

I eventually get him to stop, but we're both out of breath from the struggle. He collapses at my side rolling onto his back.

"I'm actually light-headed—" George says, puffing, catching his breath.

I hum, rolling over until I can plant my head on his chest. His arm immediately curls around my upper back, holding me tight, hooking into my hair this time.

"It's because you're so fucking old." I mumble, muffled by his shirt.

George doesn't acknowledge that, instead he mhm's. 

"Guess what?" He asks, playing with my hair.

"What?" I ask back, quick.

"You have a gray hair, too." He says, and starts giggling.

I shout in protest, lifting onto my elbows to stare down at him. "I do not, George." 

He keeps giggling, and I feel a pinch on my head. Suddenly, George's hand floats back into my vision, holding a single long strand of my hair. It's grey.

I immediately snag it, pouting. 

"George... we're both dusty." I say, then look up at him.

He grins back, lifting a hand to cup my face, dragging his thumb along my cheek. 

"Let's go get hip replacements tomorrow, yeah?" He teases.

I nod. "Bingo after?" 

We both laugh after that, and, on an impulse, I finish lifting myself onto his chest. I get close, close enough that I can dip my head and catch his lips.

When we meet it's soft, affection-filled. Maybe one day we will be dusty together.


	5. crowd pleaser (Dream, Sapnap, Smut)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sapnap/dream/reader, lots of fucking tropes
> 
> ***
> 
> take me to paris  
> because i want to see an eiffel tower

This party isn't for me.

It's probably for someone, with it's thumping music, stock-market bros with popped collars, the stickiest beer pong table I've ever had the displeasure of touching, and the distinct smell of $10 weed, but that someone isn't me. I wish it was, because then I'd be enjoying myself. 

Instead, I'm a wallflower, gaining nothing from this other than slight discomfort and an ache in my soles from the too-high heels I put on. Speaking of— why the fuck did I put on heels? It's— it's literally snowing.

Still, even in snow, even in heels, I'd walk home to get away from this. There's one small problem—

I live 15 miles out of town. 

I worry my lip, weaving through people, searching for my roommate Nina who brought me here, who has the keys to the car, to ask to go home. I find her with a drink in her hand, talking with two people. I'm briefly thankful that I haven't drank tonight, and don't plan to, since it seems like she won't be able to drive. I feel my chest tighten as I tap her arm. She focuses her attention on me.

I lean in, pressing my lips to her ear to speak. 

"I want to go." 

Nina pulls back with a pout, then shouts over the music.

"We just got here!" She says.

I feel myself tighten up further, leaning in to keep speaking. 

"I'm sorry! I'm just really—" 

Before I can finish, she pulls back, stepping away from me, then waves me off.

"Don't be a killjoy!" She says, then laughs, shoving her half-drank drink into my hands. 

I eye it with disdain, stepping toward her, pressing it back into her hands. 

"I want to go home." I say, a bit louder. 

Nina rolls her eyes again, a flushed pink collecting on her cheeks. Her friends look... annoyed, disappointed. Whether it's with me, or her, I don't know. 

"C'mon— you can't hang out a couple more hours?" Nina asks, staring at me. 

I take a tense breath, discomfort only increasing. 

"I—" I start, voice raised, firm. 

Nina interrupts. "—want to go home. Fuck me. Fine." She says, huffing.

I swallow the words, nodding in affirmation. She seems to think for a moment, jaw tense, then pulls her phone. She taps a few times. 

I can barely make out her words, but I hear: "Nick! Buddy! Remember that favor—" Before 'Jordan Belfort' comes on and the business-bros shout sing loud enough that I grimace. 

I watch Nina's lips, see her pout for no one that can see it, and watch as she hangs up the call. She steps toward me, grabbing my upper arm, leaning in to speak in my ear. 

"My buddy Nick's gonna get you. Silver truck. Five minutes. Go wait outside." She says, then fully steps away from me.

I tense my jaw, half-frustrated, half-relieved. 

I'm glad I get to go home— but upset I have to get taken by— and inconvenience— some random fucking dude. Whatever. I guess I'll take it. 

I rush to make my way outside, dodging through the gaggle of non-distinct-smell smokers hovering by the doorway, covering my nose. 

Outside, my breath pools in the cold air. I shuffle through the fresh snow on the sidewalk, trying to find any kind of footprint left so I don't completely freeze my exposed feet. I note, as I step, that it's a futile effort. The snow is thick, slick, and coming down like a blizzard.

Shit.

It's a blizzard.

I'm in heels and a miniskirt, making a random man drive me home in a blizzard. What is my fucking life?

I spend the next five minutes trembling, standing in the snow with my arms wrapped around my core, trying to hold onto as much body heat as I can. It's a relief when I see headlights down the road, and a flash of silver through the flurry of snow. 

This is probably the first time I've ever been happy to see a truck. 

I rush up without a second thought, landing at the door before the truck has barely even stopped. I grapple with the handle, head ducked, and pull the door open.

"Nick?" I ask, trying to blink the snow from my eyes.

"Yep." I hear, and it's all I need. 

I clamber into the truck, desperate to get to the heat inside.

"Woah— woah—" I hear, and laughter. "Are you in a fucking heels in January?"

"Yeah—" I whine, "I'm kinda stupid—" I say, pushing my hands toward the vent spewing hot air. 

I flip my hair back, body shaking rapid enough that my teeth chatter. 

"You're a fucking lifesaver dude you—" I turn, then stutter to a stop.

I don't know what I expected. I heard truck and formed an opinion, a wrong opinion, on what the dude was going to look like. I didn't expect—

That.

I feel heat creep my face, and I swallow, nervous, flicking my eyes back down. I retract my hands, tugging my skirt down my thighs to try and cover up, wanting to give a better impression.

He's cute. Nerve-inducing cute.

"Hi!" I hear from behind me, and yelp, jumping in surprise. 

I watch, frozen in place as another man leans into the front seat from the back. He smiles at me.

Fuck.

He's hot. 

What's going on right now? I nervously glance around, like I'll find a hidden camera for some reality T.V. show called 'hot and hotter'.

"I'm Clay." Backseat man says. "Didn't want dumbass to crash and die in a blizzard all alone." He says.

Nick reaches over to shove at him, and he shoves back.

I swallow, eyes flitting across Clay's face, back to my lap, then back to his face as I build courage to say my name. I say it, stuttered, then grimace. Clay says it back to me, smoother than anyone should be allowed, then extends his hand into the front seat, pushing Nick away from him.

"Nice to meet you." He says.

I quickly look from it to his face. Does he want me to— shake it? In God's year of 2021? Handshakes?

I carefully extend a hand until it meets his, a flutter forming in my stomach as my small, delicate hand rests against his massive, warm palm.

"Wow." Clay says, then wraps my hand tight, enveloping it with his much larger one. "You're real fuckin' cold." He remarks laughing.

"Yeah." I say back, nervously returning the laugh. "I was outside for awhile." 

Clay nods. "Let me warm you up." He says, lifting his second hand, cupping my single hand with both, then bringing it close enough to his face that I can feel the tickle of his facial hair. He blows out a breath, and I feel goosebumps lift on my skin.

"Dude—" Nick starts, and I turn to glance. "Don't be such a fucking freak." He says.

"Nothing weird about warming someone up." Clay says, then grins, laughs, and drops my hand.

I swallow my nerves, and pull myself fully back into the front seat 

"Ignore him." Nick says, shaking his head. "Where am I going?" He asks.

Oh— I didn't— I realize we've just been sitting here, and grimace. This is an embarrassing day for me.

"If you give me your phone—" I start, pointing at where a phone is plugged into the aux. "I'll put the addy in so the directions can go over the speaker." 

Nick nods. "Yeah, of course." He says, lifting his phone, unlocking it, and passing it to me.

I do what I said, putting the address in, and return the phone to it's spot. The pleasant robotic voice plays over the speaker, so I know I was successful.

"Oh?" Starts Clay from the backseat. "You're up North?" He asks. 

I turn to look at him. "Yeah. We live way out of town." I shrug. "S'cheaper." 

"That's chill." Clay says, then: "Ignore the GPS. Take fifth, next turn, it's faster." 

"Okay." Nick says, then immediately turns, in accordance with the GPS. 

"Dude." Clay starts. "This isn't fifth." 

"Correct." Nick says back. "This is fourth. Good job, you're learning your numbers." 

I duck my head to cover a laugh, catching eyes with Nick. He smiles, proud of himself. 

Clay huffs a frustrated sigh. "Just listen to me. I know where we're going. This way is slower." He says.

"Not according to the GPS?" Nick says back. "Who should I trust? A refined piece of technology— or one little pissbaby?"

I laugh again. Pissbaby? What?

Clay fully growls in frustration this time. There's only a moment before he snaps forward, wrapping Nick's neck in a friendly from-behind chokehold. Nick shouts, punching his arm to get it off.

"I'm— driving— dude— we have— a passenger." Nick grits out. "Let go."

Clay makes another noise, but retracts. Nick rubs his neck, then slightly coughs, readjusting his hands on the wheel. We fall into silence, though it's awkward, it seems amicable.

"So—" Starts Nick, and I feel my body tense, reacting to him. "—shit party?" He asks.

I level him a look as he glances away from the road to look at me. "Shit party, shit people, shittier music." I say. 

"Can't be that bad." Nick says.

I lift my brows, extending my hand. "Give me the phone-with-aux. I'll show you." I say. 

Nick eyes me, curiosity shining through, for only a moment before he's passing me back the unlocked phone. I grin, open his Spotify, quickly sparing a glance at the anime-image playlists, and type 'Jordan Belfort' in. As it plays, I hear a groan. 

"Not the—" Clay starts from back.

I turn to grin at him. "Yes the." 

I turn back just in time to see Nick turn to me, flash me a grin, and start to sing. I shout.

"What the fuck Nick—" Clay starts, as Nick starts to dance in his seat, lifting his shoulders and twisting his wrists, barely keeping a handle on the truck.

I lean back into my own seat, laughing. I could see myself as friends with these two. 

The excitement and humor buzzing in the air only continues for as long as the song. The second its done, it switches back to calmer, better, music. Nick seems to focus on the road, leaning forward in his seat with an intense look. 

"It's really fucking coming down out there." Nick remarks, tapping the breaks to slow a bit further.

I suck my lower lip in, feeling my stomach sink. 

"I'm sorry." I say, quiet, feeling like a massive inconvenience.

He turns to flash me another puppy grin.

"No worries— no worries. A favor's a favor." He says.

I worry my lip, lifting one of my legs to the seat to cradle it and calm myself down. 

"What did you do that you could possibly owe Nina a favor this big?" I ask.

Nick looks sheepish this time, leaning away from me. He speaks, but I can't make the words out.

"What?" I ask, sitting up and trying to focus.

He mumbles again, unintelligible. 

"I'm sorry. I can't— I have no clue what you said." I repeat, feeling bad.

Suddenly, Clay speaks up. 

"Tell her. Say it with your fucking chest." He says.

It gets my attention. I turn back to look at Clay, watching as he leans back into his seat, lifting his hips to settle in. My eyes dart down, watching his movement, seeing the impression of something... bigger than expected against the grey of his sweats. My lips part in surprise, and I rapidly flick my eyes back up to his face. 

Though, it's too late.

I meet eyes with Clay, and watch as he melts into a cocky smirk. He caught me looking. 

"SHE WROTE MY FINAL PAPER FOR RHETORIC!" Nick shouts, and I startle from the moment, turning to look at him instead.

I nervously laugh, feeling heat creep up my neck to my face.

"So you're a cheater?" I ask.

Nick protests. "Not usually. But the book assigned was shit and I didn't fucking read it so I—" 

"Uh-huh." I say, starting to relax again, trying to ignore what Clay caught me doing. "That's what they all say." I tease.

"No!" Protests Nick again, "I swear, hand to God, in every other circumstance I wouldn't— Clay, vouch for me man!" 

"I'm not vouching shit." Clay pipes up from the backseat.

I turn to look at him again, and find that he was already watching me. The second our eyes meet, he winks. 

"He's a little cheater." Clay says, half-whispered.

I quickly turn forward, embarrassment returning. 

Nick growls in frustration. "That's fucking rich coming from you, mister one in seven—"

"AHH—" Shouts Clay before Nick can finish. "We're not fucking talking about that right now with a girl in the car."

At an absolute loss for what they're talking about, I notice Nick is about to miss his turn. 

"Left here." I say, leaning toward him to point, hoping it changes the topic of discussion, as well. 

Nick grunts, quickly darting his hand over to shift down, and barely makes the turn. As soon as he makes it, he turns toward me, smiles, then fucking winks as well. 

"Thanks, co-pilot." He says.

I nod back, melting into my seat. How the fuck am I supposed to survive this? Maybe I'm meant to die here, in this car. There's another silence that descends, that makes me nervous. I decide to break it. 

"So what the fuck are two men in their twenties doing that they're free to drive little ole me home on a Saturday night?" I ask.

"I'm nineteen, actually." Starts Nick. "And we were uh..." He tilts his head, making eye-contact with Clay in his rear-view mirror. "We were playing video games." 

I lift my brows. "Together?" 

"Yep." Clay says. 

"Which game?" I ask, momentarily met by silence. 

"Uh—" Starts Clay. 

"CS:GO—" Says Nick.  
"Call of Duty—" Says Clay, simultaneously.

I eye them. "You were playing different games together?" I ask. 

"Yes." Says Nick, and I watch a slightly colored tinge bloom on his ears. "We're weird like that." 

I laugh at the phrasing. It's obviously a lie, but, I don't really care. I try to brush over it, noting that they seem uncomfortable.

"Quirky girl things!" I coo, then stick my tongue out. "I go crazy after eleven p.m.— el oh el!" 

I hear a snorted laugh from the backseat. "You're being a misogynist." Clay remarks. 

I turn to meet his eyes, a grin pulling my lips. 

"That's a big word." I say, then, pout. "What's it mean?"

His brows briefly twitch in, like he believes me, before he realizes I'm just fucking with him. 

"Don't worry about it sweetheart." He says back, then fucking winks again.

Is this something people do now? Wink? Because I swear I've been winked at more times this car ride than in the past year. Thrice.

Suddenly, there's a jerk in the car. I yelp, my hands flying out. They land on something massive, warm, solid, and grip. I collect myself, and realize I've landed then on Nick's arm. 

"Sorry!" I squeak, then retract into my own space. 

I note, looking at Nick, that the pink has spread from his ears to high on his cheeks. He's probably as embarrassed for me as I am. 

"All good." He mumbles back. "This the right road?" He asks, leaning further forward to squint out the windshield. 

I hum, peering out the window. It's a bit hard to tell because of the snow, but I see a sign I recognize. 

"Yep. This is right." I say. "Sorry. This road is kinda... shit."

"Man, you really live out in the middle of fucking— nowhere." Nick remarks. 

I laugh, nodding. "I mean— it's cheap and private. It's nice." I say.

Clay hums from the backseat. "Yeah? Private? I bet that would be nice. No neighbors to bother if you're too— loud." He remarks.

I feel my cheeks heat, thinking of the implications, thinking of the way he caught me staring at his dick. 

"Dude, you're being a fucking freak again." Nick says.

Clay makes an immediate noise of protest. "I'm doing no such thing—"

"No neighbors to bother if you're loud?" Nick interrupts. 

"Fuck off." Clay bites back. "It's a fucking joke." 

"I'm just saying!" Nick says. "Be normal. If I was a girl with two dudes that I just met in the middle of nowhere I wouldn't appreciate that joke."

I duck my head, a smile tugging my lips. Cute, smart, and a good boy.

"Yeah, Clay." I tag on, despite the fact that I did enjoy the mental image the implications conjured up. "Not funny. Didn't laugh." I say, eyeing him with a manufactured pout.

Clay makes another noise, waving his hands frantically. "I—I— it— I'm sorry— I didn't—" He speaks, flustered. 

I break, and let my laugh slip.

Clay groans, settling back into his seat and crossing his arms.

"Good one." He says. "You got me with that one, you little actress." 

"Sorry— sorry—" I choke out from my laughter. "No I— I knew it was a joke— it's all chill. I trust you guys. I don't know why, but you both seem very kind." I admit. "Thanks for takin' care of me." 

Clay smiles at me again, uncrossing his arms.

I turn back to the front, and startle. I'm nearly home. 

I lean into Nick's space. "My driveway will be on the right, right..." I point. "There. You can just drop me off here so you don't get stuck it's— it's kind of a massive hill—" 

"Nah. I saw your heels. I'll get you to your front door." Nick says, then before I can protest, confidently turns down my driveway.

I grimace as we slide down the steep hill, and lurch to a stop in front of my house. I give a tight lipped smile, and turn toward Nick. I think, briefly, that I should ask for his number. 

"What's up? We're here." Nick says, smiling.

I fluster before I can commit to it.

"Nothing! Thanks for the ride!" I squeak, hopping out of the truck and bolting for my house.

I fumble with the lock, then clamber inside, more embarrassed than necessary. I lift my phone to text Nina, and notice I have no data and no wifi. 

I kick my heels off, and walk to my room, shedding the now wet-from-the-snow clothes as I go. As soon as I land in my room, I note the internet light on my modem is red. 

Damn, storm must've fucked up the lines, again. That— or someone crashed into a pole somewhere. 

Oh well. At least it was the internet and not the power. 

I grab a new outfit, appropriate for the weather, flannel pajama pants and a sweater, and rush to the bathroom. I turn the shower on to scalding hot, then jump in. I take time to enjoy the shower, washing away the shitty party, and overall shitty day. I notice, while showering, that my mind is drifting.

I keep thinking about Nick and Clay.

About the way Clay's lips effortlessly tug into a smirk, and his little remark about not bothering the neighbors has me imagining what he'd do to get me so loud. I saw the outline of his cock against his sweats... I bet it would get me loud, if the size is any indicator. 

I suck my lower lip in.

Then Nick— how fucking solid he felt in my hands, and that pretty flush that climbed his neck. I wonder if he'd blush the same when I get my hand wrapped around him...

Heat appears on my face again. I'm fucking stupid. I really should have asked both if not one of them for their—

I shake the thought. I can just ask Nina for Nick's number, and, if I really want it, Nick for Clay's. It's fine.

I finish my shower, focused on keeping my thoughts PG instead of PH, get dressed, then walk to my kitchen. I start my electric kettle, boiling water to make myself tea. The second I drop the bag in my mug with cats on it, there's a knock at my front door. I freeze, wondering who fuck it could be. It can't be— the boys, right? It's been like— fifteen minutes since they dropped me off. They have to be long gone. It has to be Nina— right? 

I pad over, then I stare out the peephole. To my surprise, I see Nick and Clay standing there. I furrow my brow in confusion, and crack open the door.

"We're stuck." Nick says, immediately. "Like— super stuck." 

I flinch, and look outside again. I see tire tracks that go about halfway up my driveway's hill, before they slide back down. I open the door all the way.

Clay runs his hand through his hair. "I even tried—" He starts, then sighs. "Is there no service out here?" He asks.

I worry my lip. "Not right now, probably because of the storm— uh—" I take a step back, holding the door open. "You— you can come wait inside while we figure it out." I say.

"Thanks." Nick says, followed by a breathed sigh of relief, then steps inside. 

"Sorry. Thanks." Clay says, following him in.

I nervously close the door behind me, all three of us hovering— standing. 

"You can like— sit." I say, gesturing at a couch. 

They both nod, then go to sit like it's an order. I stay hovering, nervously balancing on my feet. 

"Sorry—" Nick starts, twisting his hands in his lap. 

"It's no worries! I mean— you're only here because of me, anyways..." I say, then nervously laugh. "That hill is a bitch in the winter. S'why I said to... drop me... off..." I taper off.

I feel myself fluster, realizing I'm here alone with them, unable to hold eye-contact after some of the things I thought about them in my shower.

I hook my thumb over my shoulder.

"I just made tea? If you wanted something to drink? I can also do like... hot cocoa, maybe apple cider?" I say, looking for an excuse to walk away.

"Apple cider sounds really good." Says Clay, first. 

"I'll take that too." Nick says.

I nod, giving a tight-lipped smile, and flee into my kitchen, grateful for something to busy myself with. I fumble to grab two mugs, then pour the liquid and mix into each. I carefully carry the mugs out, focused on not spilling them as I pass them off. The second Clay takes his, he laughs.

"Is this about the pissbaby thing?" He asks. 

I furrow my brow.

"What?" I ask back.

He angles the mug at me, and shows me a graphic that says 'Tea Makes Me Pee' emblazoned across the side.

I fluster.

"That— that's a random mug— that wasn't intentional I—"

"I got World's Most Alpha?" Remarks Nick, taking the other mug I'm holding out and reading it. "Are you sure it wasn't intentional? Seems accurate to me." He says.

I grimace. "It really wasn't."

Clay laughs, then shrugs and drinks from the mug anyways. "I guess they call me pissbaby for a reason." He says.

I laugh, but only a little, nervously bending over to collect my tea from the coffee table I left it on. I take it over to the other couch, a loveseat that remains unoccupied. 

"So what's your plan, here?" I ask, sitting down and lifting my legs to my chest, curling up as a protective measure. 

Though, it isn't because I'm uneasy, it's just because I'm embarrassed.

Nick blows a sigh, setting his mug on the coffee table and pulling his phone out. 

"Well, we're like— hard stuck." He says, then flips his phone in his hand. "I'd even call a tow but— no signal, no internet. So..." 

I nod hearing that, knowing what I need to say. It's embarrassing for me, but...

"Well..." I start. "You're probably just fucked until the storm settles and one of the farmers plows. You might... uh... might be stuck for the night." I say.

"Yeah?" Starts Nick. "I'm sorry." He says, then ducks his head, looking sheepish.

I give another of my best smiles. "No worries. It is, once again, my fault you're out here."

Nick nods, looking like he definitely still feels guilty.

"When do farmers plow, usually?" Clay asks.

"Uh—" I start. "As early as six? Depends on if the snow is done yet... they won't plow until it's done because they only plow once." 

"Ah." Clay says. "Shit."

"Yeah..." I mumble back, moving my cup in my hands. 

Anxious to not be sitting here, I lurch up to standing. "Well... if you're gonna be up at six— maybe you should get some rest— I'll uh—" I step away, hovering toward my room. "I'll grab you some blankets." 

I rush off, dropping my tea in my room then ransacking the linens closet for every spare blanket, sheet, and pillow in the house. I drag them out to the living room, help set up the couches for sleep, then flee to hide in my room. As I flip my light off and wrap up in my blankets, I can hear mumbled speaking through the wall.

What a weird situation. 

I close my eyes, trying to force myself to sleep, wondering if I'll wake up in a different universe where I'm not embarrassing myself.

***

I wake up, startled, shivering. 

The last thing I remember is fighting to sleep. 

Holy fuck it's cold. 

I push my hand down to feel my heater, and find it off.

I roll over, lifting my phone, and check the time. It's 3 am. I sit up, wrapping myself in a blanket like a cloak, and wander to my thermostat. I must've accidentally turned my heat down. I stare at the thermostat, and blink. It's turned to seventy. I squint, fumbling for the light switch.

Am I seeing this shit right?

I flip the switch up, but the lights don't turn on.

Oh. The fucking— power is out. 

I pout, then wander out of my room to the breaker box in the hallway. I open it up, trying to flip it on and off, praying the electricity comes back. When it doesn't, I whine. I slam the door of the box shut. 

It must be loud, because suddenly Clay's head pokes up from the longer couch. 

"What's up?" He asks, voice low and rough with sleep. 

I initially startle, breath catching in my throat, but shake the feeling as I remember the events that transpired last night. 

"Power went out." I whine, through chattering teeth.

"Really?" Clay says, then he's up, walking toward me, and crowding against me in the narrow hallway. 

He leans in, close enough that I can feel warmth radiating off of him, opening the breaker box up. I nearly want to lean into it, leech the heat he still has. Despite feeling myself heat from the proximity, I roll my eyes, annoyed that he's doing the same thing I just did. Male move.

"Damn." He says. "Power's out." 

He looks at me, and his brows lift. 

"You alright?" He asks.

I shake my head, trying to wrap my blanket tighter, shivering nearly violently despite my layers.

"I'm so fucking cold right now." I say, trying to get a handle on myself.

There's silence for a moment, before Clay speaks. 

"I—look. I promise I'm not trying to come onto you, but maybe we should sleep together— like bundle up— together. For warmth." He says, then laughs. It sounds... nervous almost.

I feel the same, if the flutters that fill my stomach mean anything. 

"You're not coming onto me?" I ask.

He shakes his head no.

I pull a pout. "Really? Not even a little?" I ask.

Clay seems taken aback, blinking rapidly, a flush growing on his cheeks. He opens his mouth, but before he can say anything, I speak first. 

"You're probably right, though. Go get Nick and you guys can drag your stuff into my room and we can set up in my bed." I say, then walk away before I can say something that embarrasses myself further.

I turn, walking back into my room. I instinctively try to turn the lights off, pausing for a moment to process that the switch is already down. 

Right. Power. Off. 

I sit down on the edge of my bed, still wrapped in my blanket, reality starting to set in through the sleepy 3 am haze. Two grown men are about to be in my bed. Two attractive men are about to be in my bed for the express purpose of getting close to me. 

I shift, nervous, then hear a rapping on my doorframe.

"Come in." I call out, soft.

Nick steps in, looking... nearly still asleep. 

"Power's out?" He asks, mumbled, then yawns. 

"Yeah." I say back, swallowing nervously. 

Nick looks at me, looks at the bed, processes for a second, then turns red. Clay steps in, bumping his shoulder. 

"You want the wall side?" He asks Nick. 

Nick seems to snap back to his body, quickly nodding before walking up to me. 

"Uh—" He starts, "I'm gonna— yeah." He says, then lifts a knee, climbing into my bed and settling next to the wall.

In this moment, I'm thankful I have a queen sized mattress. 

Nick looks at me, hesitant, then lifts his blanket like an invitation. I duck my head, but press in, laying myself flush to his side and dropping my face to his shoulder. The tremble from the cold covers the tremble of my nerves, and for that, I'm thankful. 

I drop my hand to Nick's arm, and feel him jump.

"Jesus— fuck. You are fucking cold." He grumbles. 

"Sorry." I mumble back. 

"S'all good." He responds, blowing a breath. 

I watch as Nick pulls his phone, then taps to open the internet. It takes a second for him to process he can't do that, and he drops his phone back to his chest. He drags his hand down his face, sighing again, right as I feel the mattress dip. I crane my neck back to look, and see Clay getting into the bed. He lifts a hand, pushing it forward, then stops, hovering it over my hip.

"Chill if I touch you?" He asks.

"Y-yeah." I say, careful, nodding. 

"Sick." He says. I feel a massive hand land on my hip and grip down. 

It makes my breath catch in my throat, worse than it already was. 

"Sick. Gnarly. Tubular." Nick mocks.

"Fuck you." Clay grumbles at him, settling in against my back. He's only still for a moment, before he leans in and speaks again.

"Can I get closer? Like full body? Like cuddling?" Clay asks, right next to my face, close enough I feel his breath.

I huff a laugh, tremble starting to settle.

"Yeah. You guys can do whatever you want." I say. "As long as it keeps me warm."

Clay laughs back, but I feel him adjust so that he's flush to my back, tightening his hand on my hip. 

"Oh yeah?" He says, voice teasing. "Anything at all? You don't mean that." 

I pause for a second, sucking my lower lip in, processing his words. If he's going to be that bold— 

In my sleepy 3 am haze, I decide to say fuck it.

"No." I start. "I mean it. Anything you want." I mumble, careful, pressing my face into Nick's shoulder.

I feel Nick go tense beneath my hands, then Clay's hand tightens on my hip. There's a moment of silence before: "I don't think you understand what you're implying." Comes from Clay. 

I lift my head from Nick's neck, turning to stare Clay down as I address his words. 

"I understand exactly what I'm implying." I say, watching his lips part in surprise. 

I turn to look at Nick this time, feeling warm, emboldened. 

"But if you guys wanna sleep. We can sleep." I say.

"I don't wanna sleep." I hear from Nick, and grin, feeling excitement crawl my skin, and flutters fill my stomach.

Clay shifts behind me again, and rolls his hips, pressing what I saw earlier against my ass. I roll back into it, and hear a pleased noise pass his lips. 

"Shit—" Clay breathes out. "We about to—"

"Take me to Paris." I say, grinning at Nick." I want to see an Eiffel tower." 

Nick finally spurs into motion, turning to face me head on, as Clay's hand goes tight, holding me in place so he can grind. Nick reaches for me, wrapping his hand around my neck and tilting my head back. The second he has me angled right, he presses in, slotting our lips together.

I'm surprised how gentle of a kisser he is, for how broad he is, and how firm his hand feels curled around my throat, tightening to pressure it feather-light. 

He pulls back from the kiss to speak, swiping his tongue out to clean my lip. 

"Chill with a little bit of hand around your neck?" Nick asks, and I hear Clay laugh from behind me. I cut it short with an intentional roll of my hips. 

"Chill if you choke me, too, daddy." I say, simple.

It gets a desperate noise from him, and his hand slowly starts to tighten. He stays pulled back, hovering, watching as my eyes roll back in my head. 

"That's not fuckin' fair. He gets to be called daddy and choke you?" Clay protests.

I nearly laugh, drawing in a sharp breath. 

"You can do it— you can too— daddy—" I breathe out. 

There's another pleased noise, this time from Clay. A second hand lands, low on my throat, just as warm, but a bit leaner, sharper. He tightens it feather light. 

"Good girl." I hear, mumbled, from behind me, too focused on the way Nick's lips feel pressing back against mine, and how his tongue feels pushing into my mouth and claiming space, to process it.

As our lips move, a second mouth lands on my shoulder. 

Clay's tongue swipes out against my neck, burning hot, right before his mouth latches down, tightening to mark the skin with a bruise.

I gasp into the kiss with Nick, bucking my body back into Clay. As I press into the contact, I feel the full appearance of what I saw earlier. His cock is now half-hard, and making itself known as he rolls it against my ass. 

Nick pulls back from the kiss. "You're so pretty." He mumbles, then presses right back in. I feel my eyes flutter, control and presence slipping. 

He doesn't last long against my lips, before his head dips, trailing kisses down my jaw to my neck. 

"Get her shirt." I hear from Nick, then feel Clay's hand on my hip move. 

Clay pushes his hand into my sweater, raising goosebumps where he brushes his thumb against my skin. He's nearly methodical with his movement, dragging my sweater up, until it's pushed over my breasts. I realize, as my chest hits the cold air of the room, that I don't have on any undergarments. 

Delightful. 

I feel Nick's facial hair ticking me as he drags his face down my chest, hovering and exhaling hot breath where my nipple is peaked, before he presses forward, open mouthed.

I gasp from the contact, rolling against Clay who drops his hand back to my hip to hold me in place against his lap. 

"Yeah?" Clay starts, as I gasp and shiver, arching my chest closer to Nick's scalding mouth. 

Nick presses my nipple flat with his tongue, lapping at my breast, then tightens his mouth to suck. It's— ah— I gasp as he scrapes with his teeth, teasing. I lift a hand, quick, carding my fingers into his hair and pulling. 

"Sounds like it feels good." Clay continues, followed by a rumbled chuckle against my back. 

I mewl around my noises, nodding, feeling soft and pliant. Clay's hand circles my hip, finger tips teasing at my waistband.

"This okay?" He asks, then waits.

I nod as well as I can, then Clay pushes forward with his hand. I hear him laugh once he discovers I'm panty-less, then brush his fingers against my pussy feather light. 

"I bet you're already fucking wet." He says, low, then pushes his fingers forward, dragging them into my slick.

My legs lift at the knees, hips tilting up as he presses in and finds out that he's right, to an almost embarrassing extent. Clay laughs, and it's enough for Nick to move off my chest. 

"Lemme feel too." He says against my chest, pawing at my waistband. 

I lift my legs further, swallowing around my tongue, getting handled. 

Nick's a bit less gentle, tugging my pajamas down my hips until I'm just exposed. Clay pulls back slightly, holding my pussy spread open with his fingers. Nick takes the opportunity, his blunt fingers pressing in and gliding through my slick. I feel his lips twitch to smile where they're pressed to my chest. 

"All this is just from my mouth?" He asks, petting with his fingers, avoiding giving me any real pleasure yet, just playing with me. 

I moan, then buck my hips, forcing his fingertips to catch on my entrance. It's Nick's turn to laugh.

"I hear you." He says. "I'm gonna eat you out." He says, to the point. 

He grips my waistband, pulling my pajamas down my thighs, then fully off. Suddenly, his lips connect with my skin again, dragging down my chest, down my stomach. 

Clay tightens his grip on me, adjusting until I'm half laying on top of him. He lands his hand on my thigh and grips, pulling my legs open for Nick. It's easy to relax, losing myself in the sensation.

"Good girl." Clay repeats, soft and breathy against my ear. 

His other hand drags across my chest, teasing my already stiff nipples. I whine as he uses his fingers to pinch, turning my face into his chest. I'm getting worked right now. I refuse to be the only one.

I adjust, carefully moving my arm, landing my hand on Clay's lap and palming him over his sweats.

"Yeah?" Starts Clay, hips lifting to press into it. "You want my cock?"

I mewl my next moan, loosely nodding, hips bucking as Clay keeps me spread for Nick. I shiver as he presses in with his tongue, soft and flat, loosely lapping at my pussy like he's just happy to do so.

Clay adjusts, dropping his other hand from my chest to cover the hand I'm using to squeeze his cock. He reaches into his sweats, and pulls his cock out. I moan once I see it, curved, hard, just as big as I thought, demanding attention. He guides my hand to it as I gasp from Nick's stimulation, eyes rolling back in my head.

"Feels so fucking good—" I sigh out praise, tugging Nick's hair. 

Nick releases pleased rumble from between my legs, pressing in harder, like he's excited to just be there. Clay guides my hand all the way down, wrapping my hand around his cock and squeezing once. I catch on quickly, tightening my grip around his cock and slowly starting to pump up the length. 

Despite my function being slow, hazy, most attentiveness lost in how good Nick is making me feel, I must do well, because Clay moans, dropping his mouth to my neck and pressing loose, soft, kisses.

I try to keep myself present, but Nick is just— ruining me. 

"Please—" I sigh out as he focuses his tongue to a point, circling and flicking my clit in a messy, excited rhythm. 

I realize I won't last, and allow myself to relax into the sensation. I loosely jerk Clay's cock, dragging my thumb against the slit, rolling my hips to ride Nick's tongue with it's movement.

"Close, baby—" I whimper, breathy, and tighten my hand in Nick's hair.

He gets even more excited, moans low in his throat as he presses in closer, dragging his tongue through my pussy. The warmth that builds is numbing, sating, grounding. 

I squeeze Clay's cock one last time, then lift my hand to his forearm and grip down. I tilt my hips again, throbbing where I'm split on Nick's tongue, and cascade into my orgasm. I moan, high, drawn out, clenching on air.

Nick stimulates me through it, though gentle, it's enough to drive me crazy.

"Please—" I choke out, squeezing with my thighs and tugging his hair. 

He pulls back, only to land his mouth on my thigh. I feel the wetness of his face as his lips connect to my skin, and he drags a careful kiss down the length of my thigh to my knee before pulling back. 

I draw in a heavy breath, twitching and whining in oversensitivity as Clay's hand drops between my legs. He pushes into my slick with his fingers, slowly circling my clit. 

"I—" I try to start, cut with another whine as Clay flicks his fingers.

I tilt my head back and gasp, trying to maintain control. I look at Nick through my lowered lashes, watching as he leans forward to land a hand at my knee and keep my legs open. I can see now, as he waits between my legs, on the mattress, on his knees, that he's hard. His cock stands to attention inside of his sweat-shorts, tight to his thigh. 

I swallow, then fight the over-stimulation to spread my legs further like an invitation. 

"You want fucked?" Nick asks, lips twitching to smile. 

I nod, and Clay laughs against my back. 

"Nah man, it's my turn." Says Clay.

I pause. His turn— doing—

Suddenly, Clay shifts. He beckons Nick up the bed. He listens, shuffling up on his knees, and lounging against the pillows near my head. I blink slowly, watching as Clay shifts. He lands a hand on my leg at the bend of my knee, holding my legs spread, then slots himself between them. 

"I bet I can make you cum faster." Clay says, dipping his head between my legs, connecting his mouth to the dip of my thigh.

He tightens his mouth, sucking to bruise, staring up at me through his eyelashes. I roll my eyes, but can't help that I moan and take a stuttered breath. This time, Nick laughs. 

"You sure man? That was pretty quick." He says.

Clay leans in, pressing a kiss to my pussy, then swiping with his tongue once. Though it's a simple motion, he does it perfect, dragging pressure perfectly against my clit. 

I let out an uninhibited moan, turning my head into Nick's lap.

"Yeah?" Clay asks, then repeats it. 

"Yeah—" I whine out, fully turning my head to rub my cheek to the bulge I feel pressing against it. 

Nick's hand lands on my hair, petting. His other hand drops to my chest, thumb brushing against my nipple. I mewl my moan, thighs tensing and heat building quicker that I want it to as Clay starts to flick his tongue between my legs with intent. 

I keep turning my face, keeping my lips parted to mouth at Nick over his shorts, exhaling warm breaths. I feel his cock jump as I moan, then tilt my head, eyes rolling back to look at him. I meet eyes with him, see his lips are slightly parted, his hair is messed, and his cheeks are tinted. He rocks his hips against my face. I open my mouth further, pressing my tongue out as I meet his eyes. 

I want him down my fucking throat.

He finally seems to understand, spurring into motion, fumbling with his waistband, taking his cock out. It looks... painfully hard, bright red, and thick. I see a vein curling up the side, and whimper. I turn my head, moving myself into position, then lift my free hand to wrap around the base of his cock. 

The noise Nick lets out the second I swipe my tongue out against the head of his cock is intoxicating. It's quiet, needy, much unlike any of the confidence he had earlier. As I wrap my lips around his cock, we release matching moans. 

Clay's tongue moves, perfect, dragging against my pussy. I thread my fingers into his hair and pull, like a warning. I'm going to fucking cum. And, he might be right. I think that was faster.

"Go ahead baby." Clay pulls back to mumble, then presses right back in, dragging his tongue through my slick with a renewed fervor.

I whine, nodding with Nick's dick in my mouth. My legs pull tight, my body arches, and pleasure starts to overwhelm. There's a burn, low in my stomach, that overtakes, violent, drawing the muscles of my body tight. I twitch into my orgasm, body trembling against Clay's tongue. 

He is not as kind as Nick.

He keeps moving, pressing his tongue deeper despite the way I arch and jerk, crying out, trying to get away from his tongue. I try to tap out of the back of his head, but his hands go tight on my hips, holding me in place on his tongue. 

Nick's the one that stops it. 

"Give her a break, man." Nick says, then sighs, rocking his hips against my mouth.

Finally, Clay pulls back from my pussy, looking up at me over the desperate rise and fall of my stomach, smug.

"I told you I could do better." He says, then presses his mouth back to my inner-thigh, gently kissing. 

Nick huffs, still rocking against my mouth as I follow a vein with my tongue. 

Clay presses a final kiss, then lifts, kneeling between my legs. 

"You wanna flip for me baby?" Clay asks, laying his hand on my stomach, stroking with his thumb. 

I whine, pulling off of Nick's dick, then carefully turn over. Clay grabs my hips with one hand, then plants the other to the center of my back. He lifts me by the hips until I'm presented to him, and slaps my ass. He keeps his hand in place, kneading the flesh he just hit.

"Condom?" He asks.

I roll my head on my shoulders, nuzzling against Nick's stomach, his hard cock resting in my palm. 

"Drawer. Left." I say, then open my mouth, sinking back down onto Nick's cock. 

I take him into my throat, to the base, eyes rolling back into my head with pleasure. Nick is right there too, small moans passing his lips as he pets my hair, down my neck, and rocks against my face. 

Clay leans to the side, pulling the drawer open. There's some shuffling, before the crinkle of a foil condom packet sounds. I tilt my hips further to present to Clay, and he laughs, slapping my ass again. 

"Needy fucking whore, aren't you?" He starts, and I whine, feeling my back dip so I can arch to present further. 

Clay's hand circles my hip, down my stomach, between my legs. He lands his fingers against my pussy, sliding into my slick to pet my clit with practiced ease. 

I tremble in his grip, focused solely on not collapsing into the mattress. 

"Yeah, and you're a good girl." Nick sighs out, tailed by a desperate moan. 

I decide to try and ignore Clay, focusing on Nick, swallowing around the length of his cock. It gets him to moan, tightening his hand in my hair and pulling it. 

"Fuck— baby—" Nick starts, hips twitching. I feel his cock throb against my tongue, and hum in surprise. 

He feels— close. 

Suddenly, I feel the blunt pressure of Clay's cock, resting at my entrance. He grips my hip, holding me steady, and starts to push inside. The stretch is— overwhelming. 

I whimper, desperate, entire body going tight. 

Clay keeps pressing forward, rocking into me until the full length of his cock is buried inside of me and his hips rest against my ass. I keep moaning, loose, desperate, demanding Clay to move. 

The noises must be enough for Nick, because I hear a choked moan from him, then feel his cock jerk in my mouth. 

"Fuck— fuck—" He moans out, holding my head in place as his cum hits the back of my throat. 

I whine, blinking back tears, but swallow and hold in place until his hand goes loose and allows me to move. I pull off, letting out a sputtered cough. I press my face into Nick's stomach again, catching my breath while he does the same. 

"S'good baby— s'good— you're good at— you're good at that—" Nick sighs out. 

My eyes roll back in my head, pleasure flooding my body as Clay's hips pull back, dragging the full length of his cock out of me before he slowly pushes it back in. I pull my legs tight, landing my hands in the sheets to twist and hold on.

Clay's hand hooks into my hair, pulling, forcing me to look back at him. As we meet eyes, he winks. 

"Say my name." He says, then rolls his hips against me.

"Clay—" I manage to breathe out, before he starts to snap his hips, dragging his cock in and out of me as a rapid rhythm. 

My eyes flutter shut in response, moans constant, high in my throat. I feel a hand cup my face, then a thumb press my lower lip. I open my eyes again, looking up at Nick's face as he watches his thumb slip between my lips. He presses down, opening my mouth, then grabs his softening cock with his other hand. 

"You wanna keep my fucking cock warm until I fuck you?" Nick asks, guiding the tip of his cock to my lips. 

I nod in submission, opening my mouth further. 

"Good girl." Nick says back, rolling his hips to bury his cock back in my mouth.

I loosely tongue at his half-hard spent cock, swallowing around it, eyes fluttering shut again. 

I keep moaning as Clay snaps his hips behind me. He sounds equally lost as me, moaning when I clench particularly tight, holding my hip hard enough to leave bruises. 

Which, I hope it does.

I bounce against the sheets, relaxing into the rhythm, until it gets quicker. Both of our noises increase to something desperate, the snap of Clay's hips is chasing. I have to pop off Nick's still just-hard cock, replacing my mouth with my hand, and loosely jerk him off. 

"I'm close—" I breathe out, and feel as Clay's hand goes tighter. 

Nick laughs. "You're gonna cum from that? From sucking dick and getting fucked?" He asks.

I nod against his stomach, swallowing roughly.

Clay returns Nick's laugh.

"I bet you are. Fuck— fucking cum on my cock baby—" He sighs out.

The snap of his hips against my ass is audible, mixed with my own desperate sounds. 

I let myself lean into the pleasure, until my body pulls tight. As soon as I crest over, heat blooming my abdomen, Clay's movement stutters. His hand grips tighter, a bitten out, "Fucking, fuck—" passing his lips.

Clay's hips snap, thrusting into me with rough jerky motions. Nick continues to pet down my hair, soothing me through the trembling aftershocks of my orgasm. I mewl through it, fluttering around the length of Clay's cock. He releases a guttural moan, then his cock jerks where it's buried inside of me. He plasters himself to my back, almost collapsing on top of me.

I blink, slow, barely collecting myself in my post orgasm haze, looking up at Nick through my lashes, warm and comfortable where I lay pressed between the two of them.

***

I wake up sore and exhausted. Clay is plastered to my back, his arms tightly looping my waist. My head rests on Nick's chest, one of his arms curled around my upper back. I recollect the events of last night, smiling to myself, surprised at my sleep deprived boldness.

There were more rounds to be had after they each came, activity that we justified as keeping us all warm. I lift, glancing out the window, making a noise when I see it's still snowing.

Clay stirs first.

"Wha't?" He asks, voice muddled.

"It's still snowing. Looks like you might be here awhile, yet." I say. "Sorry."

For that, Nick stirs, gently dragging his hand up my back to pet my hair again.

"That's totally okay with me." He says, then yawns. "I didn't have jackshit to do today." He says, slowly blinking his eyes open to look at me. As soon as he catches my eyes, he smiles. "I'd rather spend it fucking a pretty girl with my bro." He says.

Clay and I simultaneously laugh. Clay squeezes my waist where his hands rest, then he rolls his hips against my ass. 

He's hard. 

Again.

I roll back into it, a smug smile curling my lips. 

"I think I might still be cold— if only there was someone to warm me up—" I tease.

Nick beams at me, shaking his head, keeping his hold on me tight. 

"Yeah?" He asks, then looks away from me, up to Clay. "What do you think?" He asks.

I feel Clay's lips land on my shoulder, breath catching in my throat. 

"I can think of a few ways to warm her up." Clay mumbles into my skin, then drags his teeth against my neck.

My eyes roll back in my head, pleasure starting to melt my body as both of their hands become demanding on my body.

Thanks for inviting me to the party Nina.

It was a banger.


	6. clown fiesta (Sapnap, fluff, slight smut)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sapnap keeps saying he hasn't had his first kiss.  
> It's a funny joke until it's not.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (5+1 fic, lil bit corruption kink)
> 
> shout out to @ hearts1ck on tumblr for putting this in my head rent free.

The first time he says it, I don't think much of it. 

***

"Yeah, and when we meet up, you can give me my first kiss, too." Nick mumbles into the phone, voice-low, sounding half-asleep.

I snort a brief laugh, barely awake myself, burying my face deeper into my pillows and dragging in a massive inhale, leaning into the feeling of sleep. It's ritual for us to sleep on call. We've been long distance for two months now, with plans to meet in one. But, for now, calling is as close as we can get. 

It fills the gaps. 

"Yeah?" I finally return, slightly delayed. "You think I'd ever kiss you?" I tease.

"You would." Nick says back, immediately, almost whined. 

I smile into the sheets where my face is pressed. "If that's what you think." 

"No you would. You'd kiss me. I'd be dressed so snazzy you wouldn't be able to resist." He continues, protesting.

My lips twitch, eyes rolling back behind their lids. I choose to not respond, feeling the pull of sleep weigh heavier on my mind.

***

The second time he says it, I misunderstand.

***

"You're so aggressive." I start, rolling my eyes as Nick pummels me to death in duels. 

It's three weeks until we meet up, and our need for time spent together is increasing, to the point where we're spending most of our time together, even if it's just playing silly little Hypixel games late into the night. 

"I'm alpha as fuck." Nick barks out, followed by a cacophony of grunting and animalistic noises. 

It gets me to smile. 

I lift my hand, spinning my hoodie string between my fingers, then lift it to my mouth to chew. Feeling emboldened by the late time, I ask a burning question.

"Are you going to be this aggressive in person? Maybe grab me by the waist? Wrap your hand around my neck? Show me who's alpha, boss?" I ask, and immediately feel my cheeks warm.

It's a bit cringe to say, but it's 4 am, so I give myself a pass.

Nick's noises choke in his throat as he sputters to a stop. I'm proud to get such an immediate reaction. 

"I don't— uh. Probably not." He says, then nervously laughs. "I want my first kiss to be romantic." He says, quiet, like an admission.

My brows twitch in. That's not the response I expected. He wants his first kiss with me to be romantic? That's sweet, in a way. 

"What were your other first kisses like?" I ask, leaning closer to my screen, like I can be closer to him doing so. "What makes mine special?"

There's a moment of silence before he speaks.

"Uh— I—" He starts, but is interrupted by the monotone of Clay's voice. 

"I'm gonna go get food, you coming?" He says.

"Ah—" I hear my boyfriend start, "I'm on a call." 

I huff a small laugh. 

"Don't worry about it. Go get food." I say.

"Yeah?" Nick asks back.

"Yeah." I return. "Get enough for me too. Pour one out for me." I say.

Nick laughs. "Okay. Will do. Bee—are—bee." He says, then steps away.

I pull out my phone, scrolling social media while I wait for him to return. 

When he does return, the earlier conversation is long gone and forgotten.

***

The third time he says it, I notice.

***

"I hope you like strawberry— because I have been— I have been obsessed with this strawberry lipgloss I found and it's—" I smack my lips, applying another layer of the gloss evenly. "It's coming with me to Florida." 

Only two more weeks until I get to meet Nick in person.

It's becoming ridiculous, honestly, how much I need this to hurry up and happen. I want to kiss this stupid man until my lips are numb.

"I don't mind strawberry." Nick says.

"I want to kiss you until my lips are numb." I say, thoughts spilling out.

Oops. 

There's silence for a moment, Nick's breaths getting deeper over the call. I duck my head, swallowing more of my idiotic thoughts, then speak before he can. 

"What would you do if you hated strawberry? Would you kiss me anyways? Have you ever had that happen? Like the girl you were seeing was like oh I love cherry lipgloss and you were like sorry I can't kiss you I hate cherry and it— y'know— it—" I stutter to stop, clicking my mouth shut, realizing I'm rambling.

"I wouldn't know. I've never kissed anyone." Says Nick.

I laugh. There's that joke again.

"I'm being serious." I say.

"I'm being serious." He says back.

My smile wipes off my face, brow furrowing. 

"You're being serious?" I question, in disbelief.

"I'm being serious." He says back.

It goes silent for another moment, before my mouth gets ahead of me.

"You've never kissed someone?" I ask.

Nick huffs. "That's what I said, isn't it?" 

I swallow around my tongue, feeling heat creep my face. "You're being serious?"

"I'm being serious. I have never had a kiss." He says again, sounding irritated, almost.

I duck my head, thoughts kicking into overdrive.

I get to be his first kiss. 

And it's going to taste like strawberries.

And he'll remember me forever.

Because I'm going to be his first kiss.

I lift both hands to my face, feeling it warm in my palms. I bury my face in my hands, flustered, excited, thinking about it. 

I know he's going to like it. 

I just wonder if he'll be tentative, careful, barely kissing back because he doesn't know what he's doing. Or maybe, he'll get excited, press in with everything he's got, bite my lip, sloppily move against my mouth in a desperate rhythm. 

"You went silent." Nick says, observing. It startles me from my thoughts. "Is that— like— chill?" He asks, cautious.

"Yes—" I jump in, immediate. "I'm just— I'm excited. Thinking about it. You. Kissing you. Being your first kiss. I'm excited. It's exciting." I respond.

Nick laughs. "Yeah? I'm excited too." He says back.

We eventually get back to the conversation at hand, and I learn that he really likes cherries.

***

The fourth time he says it, I realize exactly how stupid I am. 

***

"Let me know if you want me to carry you in ranked, next." Nick says.

He just went 11-1 in a game of normals in League, and he's sure proud of it.

I roll my eyes. "Spoken like a true man who hasn't had a kiss before. Which—" I pause to laugh. "Despite the evidence—" I remark, clicking on his level on League. "I still have trouble believing." 

Even if it's hard to believe, there's only a week left until I see him. The problem will be remedied. I'm gluing our mouths together, to the point his poor buddy Clay is going to beg us to stop

Nick laughs. "How many times do we have to repeat this shit? Yes! I, Nick of Nathan, have never, ever, in my life, pressed my lips to the lips of another person. I am kissless— unlovable—" 

"But like— not even when you had sex?" I tease.

There's silence that I don't expect.

"...babe." Nick starts, quiet. "I told you I haven't had sex." 

I blink. Surely—

"I thought— I thought that was— I thought that was a joke? I thought that was sarcastic?" I say.

"...no it— it was serious." Nick says, voice quieter.

He sounds almost... embarrassed. It makes... sense. I'm not sure what jumps I made in my minds that I believed he hadn't kissed but wasn't a virgin.

"So you've never— you wouldn't— when— is it like— a religious thing?" I ask.

There's a moment of silence again, before Nick speaks, subdued. 

"No. I just— haven't been in a position where I could— or— would have sex." He says.

This time, the amount my face and body heat, have to be embarrassing. The heat creeps into my brain, fuzzing over my inhibition. I know I could leave it, focus on the game, but—

"So I'm going to take your virginity next weekend, too?" I ask. "I bet you'll get hard so quick with me in your lap and my tongue in your mouth. Won't you, baby?" I take a shuddered breath. "I'll take that first kiss, then, I'll take care of you."

Well... that was certainly... aggressive.

Nick makes a strangled noise. 

"I— I me'an—" He tries to speak, voice cracking on the final syllable. 

A smile warps my face. 

"I—if you— if you want to like— get freaky—" 

I bark out a laugh, hearing how nervous he's gotten, then see a notification flash my screen. I screech through my laughter, clicking my screen to see that he's died, first blood. 

"My bad— my bad. Should've known better than to tease the virgin." I coo out. 

"Shut up." Nick grumbles back.

I decide to drop it and focus on the game. 

How did I miss that? That he's a virgin? He has confidence and attitude that would suggest otherwise. 

I guess sometimes assumptions are wrong.

***

The fifth time he says it, I'm ready.

***

"What're you gonna do with your last twenty-four hours as a virgin?" I ask. "What are virgin activities?" 

Nick laughs. "I dunno. Jerking off, I guess?" 

"Are you jerking off?" I ask, curious.

"No—no— I'm not— that's not— I was just saying that because it's a virgin activity. You asked. That's all." He says.

I hum. "Oh— okay." 

Suddenly, I have a very bad idea. Especially since I get to see him literally tomorrow. I could wait, should wait. Yet...

"I'll be right back." I say, then drop my headset and snag my phone. 

I go straight to my bathroom, flicking the lights on. I have no hesitation, pulling my shirt up my stomach, and hooking a thumb at the bottom of my bra. I lift both until I'm exposed, shivering as the air hits my chest. I lift my phone, take a picture, then walk right back to my desk and sit down.

"Back." I say, the second my headset is back on my head. 

"That was—" Nick pauses to yawn, "—quick." 

"Yeah. Just needed some water." I say. My lips twitch to smile, "Making sure I'm hydrated for when you got me squirtin' tomorrow."

Nick chokes on air, a cacophony of noises coming from his mic. I cover my mouth to laugh, knowing I'm sitting on something even worse. 

"Wh—" He starts, "—do you? Is that something you do?" 

I bat my eyes at nothing. 

"Do I what? Ask the whole question, I need context." 

I'm responded to with silence.

When Nick finally speaks again, it's mumbled, low, quiet. 

"...do you squirt?" He asks.

I grin, wrinkling my nose in distaste at how foreign the words sound from his mouth.

"I've been known to. Did you wanna see?" I ask. 

I hear another choked noise. 

"Do you— do you have— do you have like— a video of that?" He asks.

I hum, then shake my head, despite the fact that he can't see it. I steady myself, preparing to be bold.

"No. But I have something else." 

I say it, then send the picture. 

There's only a few seconds delay before I hear a chime. There's some quiet shuffling, then tapping. I have to bite my lip, holding my laugh in as I hear his phone unlock. 

I hear a sharp breath. A whispered: "Fuck—" Then the notification that he hung up on our Discord call.

I can't help that I laugh.

My phone immediately buzzes in my hand, an incoming FaceTime, from Nick, of course. 

"Sorry—" He barrels out, looking bright red, the second I answer. "I panicked." 

"That's okay." I coo out. "So what'd you think?" I ask. 

There's a moment of silence before he speaks. But, he mumbles, and I can't make out his words.

"I can't understand you." I say.

He clears his throat, then speaks again. "...it made me want more. I want to see you. I—" He pauses, sounding hesitant when he speaks again. "I wanna touch you." 

I smile, feeling myself heat at the words. 

"You will, baby. Less than twenty fours hours from now, I'm gonna be in your arms." 

I hear Nick take a sharp breath. 

"I'm kind of..." He tapers off. "I'm kind of nervous, honestly." 

"About what?" I ask.

"The— the— physical stuff. It's a whole new world. What if I suck at it?" He asks, sheepish.

I feel heat creep further on my face. I plant my chin in my hand, and decide to continue my brave streak.

"Can I be honest with you, Sapdaddy?" I ask.

"Yeah of course you can—" He pauses, seemingly processing the name. He chuckles, quiet. "Sweetheart." 

Oh that's the one.

That's the one that gets me.

I nearly melt in my seat. 

"It'll be cute if you're bad." I say. "Also— expected. You haven't done it. It's gonna feel good anyways because I like you." 

Nick makes a small noise of affirmation, then goes quiet. I decide to let the silence descend, focusing on my own phone, sitting with Nick in a pleasant mutual silence, until— I hear him take a heavy breath, jagged, shuddered. 

My eyes flick up to his video. I see the top of his head, hair messed, and nothing else. 

"What're you doing?" I ask.

He immediately speaks. "Chillin'." He says, sounding out of breath.

I lift my brows, pressing my tongue to the roof of my mouth. That was certainly a quick response.

"Yeah?" I ask, chewing my lip. "That sounds fun..."

I lift to standing, walking over to my bed and settling in. I stretch once I lay down, carefully letting a relaxed moan slip. I'm attentive to the way Nick's breath catches immediately after. 

"What're you wearing?" I ask. 

Nick makes a noise. "Why're you asking such weird— ah— weird questions?" 

I puff my cheeks. "I sent you a picture of me, you saw what I was wearing, so now I'm curious about you. Why don't you show me? Show me your whole outfit, just really quick." 

I don't care about his outfit. I care about his lap, and what he's doing that has him so out of breath.

"Oh— I— it— um—" He sputters out, then goes silent. 

I hear the rustling of fabric, quiet as can be, then watch as the camera lifts. Nick quickly sweeps the phone down his body, quick enough that I can't get a good look.

I decide to be obvious. 

"Can you show your pants again? I missed them." I say.

Nick grunts. "It's just gray sweats." He says, face turning red.

I grin. Busted. 

"Just show me. Easier." 

"I— it's just sweats." 

"Point the camera down." I say, direct.

Nick goes impossibly redder, sinking in on himself, then the camera flips to his lap.

There, I get to see his cock very obviously stood to attention inside his sweats. 

"That's really interesting." I start, then hum. "Now why don't you show me what you were doing?" 

Nick lets out a choked noise, before: "Y-yes ma'am." 

It makes my stomach go tight, arousal furling out, desperate enough to burn. I watch, fascinated, as his hand appears on screen, then glides down his stomach and into his sweats. His hand wraps his cock, then he takes a shuddered breath as he pumps it, once.

"Take it out. I want to see." I continue, quietly demanding. 

Nick makes a sound that's nearly whined, and lifts his hips, pushing his sweats and boxers just down his hips. My breath catches as his cock springs free, hard, flushed with blood that collects at the tip, thick, and neglected. 

I clench on air just looking at it. It's a good dick. It's a shame it's never been inside of someone. He rests his hand on his stomach, just waiting for permission.

"Good boy." I mumble. "Let me see you. Keep jerking off." 

I hear his breath catch, heavy in his throat. There's some rustling, then he stretches out, wrapping his hand around his cock, thumbing at the head. 

I drop my own hand to my stomach, but stop myself before going in. I want to be attentive for this. My hips tilt as I shift, restlessly, watching Nick pump his own cock, needy soft noises in his throat. 

"You're gonna feel so fucking good inside of me." I whisper, then watch as Nick's hips buck up into his hand. 

He lets out a desperate noise through gritted teeth, continuing to rock his hips, fucking his own cock into his hand. I can't help that a noise of my own passes my lips, watching him do it. 

God. I'm fucking this boy tomorrow.

When he finally finishes, cum striping up his stomach, he whimpers my name.

***

When I first kiss him, it's revolutionary.

***

"Yeah! I mean we have a lot of movies weirdly that like—" Nick is speaking, sat down on the couch next to me.

He just picked me up from the airport. I can't believe how solid he feels in my hands, and how firm his hands feel in my body. We had a movie moment, as soon as I first approached him. He grabbed my waist, I jumped, and suddenly he was holding me, wrapping me in his arms tight enough to make me feel grounded, home.

I nearly kissed him, but I maintained control. 

I won't anymore.

Ignoring whatever Nick's saying, I lift a leg, swinging it up, then over his knee. I sit down on his thigh, looking up at him with a smile as his words die in his throat. He hesitantly lifts his hands, then hovers them. He looks at me, puppy-eyed, slowly starting to turn a shade of red.

"You can touch me." I say, giving consent. 

His hands land on my hips, careful, tentative.

I rock my hips on his thigh, just to tease, then lift, moving all the way up his body, swinging my leg over him again, until I'm fully straddling his lap. I arch, making sure our stomachs are pressed flushed, and wrap my arms around his shoulders.

Nick watches me the entire time, shy, keeping his hands on my hips feather light, but still using them to help guide me in. 

I'm tempted to roll my hips with our bodies flush like this, watch Nick's brain melt the second he gets that contact. But, I hold it off. I have more important things I'm concerning myself with. 

"You ready for your first kiss?" I question, moving one of my hands to cup his jaw and pet his facial hair with my thumb.

It takes him a second to process, but when he does, he nods, rapid. 

I huff a laugh at his desperation, then tilt my head, leaning in until our mouths slot together. I press a single feather light kiss to his lips, then pull back to smile before he can react.

"There you go." I whisper against his mouth, then press right back in, a bit harder. 

Nick's mouth stays alarmingly limp, like he's just trying to figure out what I'm doing. The second his lips twitch to move, tentative, careful, I barely pull back.

"Just like that." I whisper against his mouth, then press in even harder. 

It's obvious he has no clue what he's doing, but it still feels nice, his lips soft and lax against mine. 

I decide to give him a treat. 

I push my tongue out, swiping it along his lower lip, then nip. 

I don't know what I expected, but I didn't expect for him to immediately whimper, his hands on my hips shifting until his can wrap his arms around my waist, holding tight. One of his hands lands on my ass, and he takes the opportunity to grope.

Fine.

I take the hand I used to cup his face, circling it around to his hair, then run my fingers up the base of his skull, threading into his hair. I pull, tight, forcing his head to tilt back, then press into the kiss. 

Nick whines against my mouth, bucking his hips directly up into me with a jerky motion, pressing himself into the kiss. I'm startled, proud even, when I feel his tongue shove into my mouth. 

It's not... quite right. I can tell he's lost as his tongue pushes against mine, but something about it is sweet.

I tug his hair again to pull him back, separating our mouths. The second we disconnect, he whimpers, gripping down on my ass and holding me in place so he can roll against me. 

I feel his cock twitching, hardening, between my legs, and let a quiet laugh at him slip.

"Calm down, baby." I chastise, waiting for him to nod in affirmation before I lean back in, pressing our lips together. 

This time, I stay mostly lax, just keeping our lips pressed. I stroke the back of his neck, encouraging him to take control. 

When his lips move, it's a bit slower, smoother. He takes his turn to bite my lip, and I smile against his mouth. He's a quick learner.

He can never say he hasn't had a first kiss again.

And when his buddy Clay comes out of his room, and we're still lip-locked on the couch, he's quick to turn and walk right out the door, keys in hand.

Good. We need the privacy.


End file.
